Gasa TIC all 



THE PARDON OF GUINGAAIP. 



To the " Pardon of Guingamp " I have added the Pilgrimages of 
St. Jean du Doigt and St. Anne d'Auray. These, together with the 
two great wedding feasts of four and six hundred guests, and not a few 
mediaeval customs, must justify the second portion of the title. Of 
the verses found in most of the chapters, the translations are distin- 
guished hy their own foreign headings ; the rest are original. The 
former, in many instances, as in the touching " Hymn of Paradise," I 
have rendered somewhat freely, as the extravagance of religious 
expression would make a literal translation into English verse impos- 
sible. 




A STREET IN QUIMPER. 



THE 

PARDON OF GUINGAMP; 

OR, 

390etr£ aiti) Jlamancc in 

MODERN BRITTANY. 



BY THE 

Rev. PHILIP W. de QUETTEVILLE, m.a. 




LONDON : 

CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 
1870. 



LONDON : 
PKINTED BY VIRTUE AND 
CITY ROAD. 



ERRATA. 



Page 3, line 20, for " angurs " read " augurs." 
Page 173, line 20, for " Escop au " read " Escop ar.'' 
Page 518, line 7, for " th' unequal" read " the unequal." 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Introduction 1 



CHAPTER I. 

General Appearance of the Country. — Approach to St. Malo. — 
Concerning the Pardon. — The Lady of Lannion. — Description 
of St. Malo. — The Ramparts. — Chateaubriand. — Ancient Cus- 
toms. — Buildings in the Town. — Breton Ballad. — Piety of the 
Old Inhabitants. — Diligences. — The Two Landladies. — Welsh 
and Breton. — The Faded Flower.— Fete Dieu. — The Tomb on 
the Rock 6 



CHAPTER H. 

To Rennes. — Castle of Hed£e. — Anne of Brittany. — Our Drunken 
Driver. — Description of Rennes — An Old Feudal Chateau. — 
Starting for Nantes. — Beautiful Country. — Romance of Travel. 
— Nantes. — Austrian Prisoners. — Objects of Interest. — The 
Duchess de Berri. — The Cathedral. — St. Nicholas. — Les Hiron- 
delles 23 



CHAPTER HL 

Clisson. — The Garenne. — Abelard and Heloise. — An Enthusiastic 
G-uide. — The Castle of Clisson. — The Royalists. — Visitors' Book. 
—Effects of the Heat.— Up the Erdre.—Nort.— The Weddings. 
— Monsieur le Cure. — Peace Rejoicings. — During the Retreat . 39 



CHAPTER IV. 

Cold Winter. — Across the Channel. — The River Ranee. — Dinan. 
— The Travelling Dentist : his Invention. — Polite Literature. — 
Retrospect. — Environs of Dinan. — Cruelty to Animals. — An 
Unsophisticated. Town 50 



vi 



Contents. 



CHAPTEE V. 

PAGE 

Leave Dinan. — An Intending- Passenger. — A Custom of the Last 
Century. — The Mariner's Hymn. — St. Brieuc. — Cupboard Beds. 
— The Last of the Diligences. — Ancient Observance . .61 



CHAPTER VT. 

Chatelaudren : its Submergence. — Decline of the Breton Lan- 
guage. — Guingamp. — Preparations for the Pardon.— Chateau 
de Kerano.- — Karnabat. — Excursion to Plouha. — The Passing 
Bell . . . . 70 

CHAPTER VII. 



Lanvollon. — Plouha. — Portmogere. — Monsieur le Cure : his Hand- 
maid. — Description of Kermaria. — The Village Inn. — The Cure's 
Manuscript. — Church of Kermaria. — The Black Mountains. — 
The Breton Language. — The Bay of the Dead . . . .79 



CHAPTER VIII. 

The Eve of St. Peter. — Flocking in of Mendicants. — Church of 
Guingamp. — Decorations for the Pardon. — Votive Tablets.- — 
Image of the Virgin. — Devout Worship pers. — Hymn to Our 
Lady. — Definition of a Pardon. — Establishment of that of 
Guingamp 92 



CHAPTER IX. 

Arrival of Pilgrims. — Appearance of the Church Relics. — Customs 
at the Pardon. — The Fair. — Amusements. — A Game- Cock for 
a Halfpenny. — Dancing. — A Tradition. — The Procession. — 
Lighting the Bonfires.— Scene in the Church. — Paradise. — 
Encampment of Pilgrims. — Reflections on the Pardon. — De- 
meanour of Strangers 103 



CHAPTER X. 

Departure from Guingamp. — A One-handed Driver. — Lannion. — 
Crypt under the Church. — Perros Guirec : its Inn. — The No- 
tary. — Cheap Living. — Region of Stones. — St. Anne. — The 
Rocking Stone. — Plououmanha. — The Lighthouse. — A Breton 
Regent Street. — Laclartee. — The Orphan of Lannion . .125 



CHAPTER XL 

Leave Perros. — Granite Calvaires. — The Travelling Tinker. — 
Captain 11. — Treguier. — A Hopeful Youth. — Description of the 
Town. St. Yves : his Miracles. — Enthusiastic Bretons. — Con- 
Yen t. The Lady Abbess. — A Novitiate. — La Roche Derrien. — 

An Unshaven Priest.— Return to Lannion . . . .139 



Contents. 



Vll 



CHAPTER XII. 

PAGE 

Castle of Tonquedec. — Morlaix. — Description of the Town. — 
Walk along the River. — Legend — The Fete of Prince Jerome. 
— Walk to St. Pol de Leon. — The Leonard Peasant : his Piety 
and Resignation. — The Revolution. — Churches of St. Pol. — 
An Old Inhabitant. — The Last Bishop of Leon. — The Agonie 
.Noble. — Refrain of the Conscript 157 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Decayed Nobility.— The Onion Merchant. — Breton Beggars. — 
Chateau de Kerouzere. — Menhirs. — Chateau de Kerjean : its 
Last Owner. — Celtic Cemetery. — The Old Soldier. — High Mass 
in the Cathedral. — Churchyard of St. Pol de Leon . . .175 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Lesneven. — Walk to Pontusval. — Peasants of the District. — Men- 
hir of Pontusval. — Dolmens. — Walk to Pengol. — The Public- 
houses. — Village Schoolmaster. — Degeneracy of Language. — 
Round the Hearth. — The Mayor of Pengol. — An Altercation. 
— The Court of Justice. — Shut the Door. — Obstinacy of the 
Mayor. — Retire to Rest. — The Mayor in his Nightcap. — The 
Gensdarmes. — Return to Lesneven. — A Breton Welcome . 195 



CHAPTER XV. 

A Wedding. — Church of the Folgoat. — Tradition. — Funeral Ser- 
vice. — On to Landerneau. — Eclipse. — Approach to Brest. — 
Description of the Town. — The Castle. — The Recouvrance. — 
Seaman's Hymn ......... 221 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Excursion to Le Conquet. — The Werewolf. — Cape St. Matthew. — 
The Lighthouse. — Ruins of the Monastery. — Return to Brest. — 
Modern Miracles. — Legend of St. Anne 233 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Excursion to Crozon. — Landing at Quelern. — W^alk to Camaret. 
— Drive to Crozon. — A Retired Chateau — Landaoudec — Bay 
of Morgatte. — Barbarity of Natives. — Trou du Liable. — Caves. 
— Revolutionary Incident. — Our Lady of Port Salut. — Return 
to Quelern. — Across to Brest 242 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Start for Chateaulin. — Roadstead of Brest. — An old Acquaint- 
ance. — The Priest. — Our Conversation. — Something New. — 
The Olive Branch of Peace. — A Tete-a-Tete. — Invitation to 
Langoilen. — Portia unay. — La Lecon des Enfants . . . 255 



vm 



Contents. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

PAGE 

Start for Quimper.— Description of the City.— The Cathedral.— 
Old Tradition.— An Ordination. — Welsh Clergy.— Dignity of 
the Ancient Bishops of Quimper. — A Citizen's Fete. — Dilemma. 
— Invitation to Ball. — Night 268 



CHAPTER XX. 

Start for Audierae. — The Tillage Hairdresser. — Douarnenez. — 
Pont Croix. — Audierne. — Landlord and Landlady. — Sacred 
Fountain. — The Pointe du Raz. — Rocks. — Site of the City of 
Is. — Early Christian Missionaries. — Druid Songs. — Submersion 
of the City of Is . . 280 



CHAPTER XXI. 

Plouhinec. — An Old Soldier : his Respect for the English. — 
Druidical Remains. — Pont l'Abbe. — Walk to Kerity-Penmarch. 
— Picturesque Peasants. — A Ruined City. — Primitive Thresh- 
ing. — The Breton Farmer : his Nag. — My Guide : his Defec- 
tion. — The Torche. — An English Picnic. — Return to Pont 
l'Abhe. — Coming back from the Fair. — The Fishermen. — An- 
cient Customs.— Old Wedding Songs ..... 296 



CHAPTER XXII. 

A Pleasant Sight. — Concarneau. — Celtic Cemetery. — Quimperle. 
— The Forest. — Chateau St. Maurice. — Wood-cutters. — 
Miracles. — Decline of Old Customs. — Monsieur Flammik : 
Brizeux's Lament. — An Omnibus. — L'Orient. — Port Louis. — 
Benediction of the Sardine Fishery. — The Poet's Dirge . .316 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

Prince Louis Napoleon. — Pontivy. — The De Rohans. — The 
Courier. — Moncontour. — A Breton Inn. — Scenery. — Standard 
of Virtue — Lamballe. — Plancoet. — Country Life in Olden 
Times. — An Acute Driver. — A British Exile. — St. Malo. — 
Fleeting Summer . . . . . . . . .329 



CHAPTER XXIY. 

The Celtic Dialects. — Breton Ships at Carmarthen. — A Breton 
Peasant in Wales. — Parallels. — The Cornish Miner. — Love of 
Country. — Oriental Origin of the Celtic Race. — Innovations. — 
The Patagonian Colony. — Spring in Brittany. — Sonnet. — City 
of Dol. — Cathedral.— An Old Inhabitant. — Cancale. — A Recent 
Breton Saint. — St. Malo. — Difficulty of Accommodation . . 341 



Contents. 



ix 



CHAPTER XXV. 

PAGK 

Lanmeur. — The Crypt. — Tradition. — Chateau de Boiseon. — Tron- 
feuntenion. — An Old Soldier. — Walk to St. Jean du Doigt. — 
Tradition of the Sacred Finger. — Approach to the Village. — 
Parish Church. — Pilgrims. — The Pardon. — Mendicants. — High 
Mass. — The Inn. — Increasing Crowds. — The Procession. — Fall 
of the Eope. — The Dragon. — Touching with the Relic. — Cu- 
rious Custom. — Plouganou. — Bonfires. — A Pleasant Occupation. 
— A Profane Gensdarme. — Crosses of Salvation. — In June . 357 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

The Cholera. — Ignorance of the Peasantry. — Fatalism. — M. Vio- 
leau's Adventure. — Daughter of Emile Souvestre. — Drive to 
Huelgoat. — A Romantic Story. — Granite Boulders. — The Lake. 
—The Forest.— The Gouffre.— Church of St. Herbot. — The 
Cascade. — Pilgrimage Chapels. — Pardon of Berrion. — Offerings. 
— The Bonfire. — The Bowling-green. — Ghosts. — Mistrust of 
Strangers. — Superstitions. — Needful Times .... 375 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

Carhaix. — The Fair. — Bargaining. — Traffic in Butter. — Hair 
Merchants. — Returning from the Fair. — A Future Priest. — A 
Breton Wedding. — Plouye. — The Disputation. — Ancient Cus- 
toms. — My Introduction to the Party. — The Cabaret. — The 
Ceremony. — Dancing. — Arrival of Guests. — The Banquet. — My 
Neighbours. — Effects of the Good Cheer. — Soupe au Lait. — 
Dead for Love 396 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Wedding Customs. — An Important Member of Society. — Depar- 
ture for Chateaulin. — Hotel-keepers. — Old Social Laws. — An- 
other Wedding. — Provisions. — Bridegroom's Procession. — Bag- 
pipes. — Costumes. — The Exhortation. — Feasting. — The Gavotte. 
— The Rector. — A Controversialist. — Sonnet . . . .421 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

Le Faouet. — Votive Chapels. — Vannes. — The Cathedral. — A Por- 
trait. — Sarzeau. — Castle of Succinio. — St. Gildas. — The Nun- 
nery. — Triffine. — A Stormy Night. — A Sad Story. — Life in the 
Convent. — Auray. — The Grande Chartreuse. — Drive to Qui- 
beron. — The Poor Kloarecks. — Easter Offerings . . . 438 



CHAPTER XXX. 

The Peninsula. — Druidical Remains. — Superstitions. — The Royal- 
ists. — Madame Ballette. — A Centenarian. — A Brutal Driver . 460 
b 



X 



Contents. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

PAGE 

Pilgrimage of St. Anne d'Auray. — Vincent Grosdoit. — The Rail- 
way. — Origin of the Pilgrimage. — A Notable Convert. — 
Miracles. — The Village. — New Church. — Pilgrims. — The Par- 
don. — The Bishop's Cousin. — The Procession. — The Discourse. 
— Early Mass. — Combourg. — Chateaubriand. — La Bretagne . 471 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

Review of the Breton Character. — Love of Country. — Ferocity of 
Wreckers. — Anecdote of Peasants. — Amiable Trait of Character. 
— Intemperance. — A Sergeant of the Guard. — Suspicious Nature. 
— Letter to King Louis Philippe. — The Celtic Dialect. — Old 
Superstitions. — Ancient GameB. — Jews in Brittany. — Conclud- 
ing Remarks. — The End . . . . '. . . .497 



THE PARDON OF GUIMAMP. 



INTRODUCTION. 

THE SLEEPEE AWAKE. 

WOKE : the veil aside I cast, 

Nor needed scarce inquire the way, 
Knew not three centuries long had pass'd, 
But thought I'd slept since yesterday. 
The village church was near the sea : 
I sought it, and in reverie, 

Heard as of old the music slow, 
With rocks which made the grinding surf : 
Beneath the yew the tombstones read : 
One newer than the rest which said, 
The tenant of that late-rais'd turf 

Died, a child- wife, eight weeks ago. 
I knew her : knew at least her name, 
Her house was near the lonely wild, 
By which the dolmen stood, the same 
I played on when a prattling child. 
Onward I hied, and saw men reap 
The lean fern harvest o'er the steep, 
Then scaled the barren high hill side, 
As slow came murmuring in the tide ; 

Betook me to the busy fair : 
The people were the people whom 
In days agone I knew so well, 
Yet no one visage I could tell, 
Of women in the same costume, 
Or men with like long floating hair 
B 




2 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



I pass'd : one stalwart watch'd I now, 

With a stout yoke of oxen plough, 

And one demure who stood beneath 

A menhir on the haunted heath. 

I saw his bared grey head incline 

To the carv'd cross, the seaman's sign. 

He stopp'd to join the sable train, 

Of a long funeral in the plain ; 

In white and black : some five or six 

With taper and with crucifix. 

A dismal dirge sang choir and priest, 

Which scarce in distance lost, 
Than sounds as of a wedding feast 

Did the quick sense accost. 
A hundred peasant folk, and more, 
Were dancing on the new barn floor, 
To bombarde harsh, with vigour due, 
And music of the shrill biniou. 
Though each slow step, each slow-timed song, 
Might to my bygone age belong, 
They knew me not, but as I sat, 
I ask'd for this one and for that ; 
For one who dwelt in yonder town, 
Whose lyre had brought his name renown, 
He with such tuneful voice who sang, 
With whose sweet praise the neighbourhood rang, 

That sad, but heaven-inspired bard ; 
They started, stared, as if to say, 
His little piece of earthly clay 

Long since has moulder' d in the yard. 
Such lack of lore to eye, began 
The puzzled youths : one older man 
To proffer straight a nearer place, 
Who'd guess' d a stranger by his face — 
He seem'd at ease with country men, 
Though by his garb a citizen : 
And thus, with something like a sigh, — 
" The good old times are passing by. 
With novel creeds the town o'errun, 
I love its jaded haunts to shun. 
Here thought is speech, and speech is free, 
The peasant and his fields for me. 
No swerving from ancestral ways 



The Sleeper Awake. 



E'er caught his wildest whim ; 
The well-tried type of other days 

Is the true type to him. 
A child in knowledge, still the same, 
In nuptial rite or ancient game, 
Full well he argues, ' Yes, knew best 
My father ; may his soul have rest.' 
His heart was warm, his wine was old, 
He turn'd the very clods to gold, 
And delv'd at stated times the ground, 
To see each buried piece was sound. 
The housewife busy, grave and staid, 
His will, in duty bound, obey'd — 
She knew her place, the feast begun, 
She waited till his sex had done. 
Her, meet return, due love he bore, 
His nag perhaps a trine more. 
He vow'd a fowl when ill she fell, 
A couple if his bull got well. 
Strange angurs rightly she'd divine, 
Was vers'd in omen and in sign : 
The virtue of each herb she knew, 
She watch'd which way the magpie flew : 
Could tell, when aught bewitch' d the churn, 
What saint her sluggish cream would turn ; 
Which, the too fatal pest allay 'd ; 
Which, rye bread lightest rais'd and made ; 
Or which, her lonesome state abhorr'd, 
Could gladden her ambitious lord. 
Accustom'd to the goodman's fame, 
When from the Pardon home he came, 
She met him as a thing of course, 
Swaying and reeling on his horse ; 
And had at times no light a task, 
To carry him from the cider cask. 
At eve her matron skill to ply, 
She drew her time-worn distaff nigh, 
While the grave grandsire took his seat, 
At the wide hearth, a warm retreat, 
And in the chimney corner o'er 
His well-thumb'd lives of saints would pore. 
A neighbour from a friendly farm 
Came in, an hour or two to charm ; 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



Some tale of dwarf or sprite lie told ; 
They listen' d till their blood grew cold : 
He could not well his fear forget, 
One All Souls' Eve, a troop he met : 
He felt their warm breath scorch his face, 
Took to his heels, they gave him chase. 
They haunted all the vale, he vow'd ; 
Now roar'd the gaping ploughboys loud, 
And saw them through the casement plain, 
Bestriding madly down the lane. 
The rector took these things at ease, 
Nor fretted did their young blood freeze. 
Some hinted, and perhaps 'twas true, 
He wink'd at the dread loup-garou. 
Eound was his paunch, full wide his maw ; 
His Eeverence's word was law. 
At times perchance, if somewhat rough, 
He thaw'd beneath a pinch of snuff: 

Nor readier he at soothing souls, 

Than skilful at a game of bowls. 

Not thus the town, 'tis fast indeed 

Abjuring custom, form, and creed." 

— " But fierce doth ancient speech retain ?" 

I quick to interpose was fain. 

Again he made reply, ' ' Not so, 

When scarce a coming age may know 

How old heroic deeds were sung, 

Forswearing its ancestral tongue." 

" Oh loyal reverence for the past, 

Thou once strong faith ! " He shook his head 

' ' The years grow old, its doom forecast, 

I marvel only 'tis not dead." 

" Sweet poetry of life ! " thought I, 

" If so indeed, 'tis time to die." 

I stood, I listen'd, gazed around, 

I started at an unknown sound. 

A scream unearthly, loud and shrill, 

Drove the old echoes through the hill. 

I half in terror held my breath, 

Seem'd it one wounded was to death ; 

Then on a roaring monster came, 

Outpouring, snorting, smoke and flame. 

" See, see our foe," the old man said, 



The Sleeper Awake. 



As, swift as lightning, past he sped: 
" E'en systems fleeting fade apace, 
He comes to overwhelm our race, 

Its simple faith is gone ; 
I-onl, 'tis written, will'd by fate, 
Such signs admonish, time is late * 
Where shall we seek for childlike truth, 
When garments of renewing youth, 

This old, old world puts on ? 
Our land her tried foundation shifts, 
Quick to scarce hidden danger drifts ; 

Wild chaos o'er her broods : 
Her once green fields their freshness lose 
Who now to linger long would choose ? 
Who would not, freed from fleshly bond, 
Fly to a Brittany beyond 

Where — no rude change intrudes ? " 



CHAPTER I. 



General Appearance of the Country. — Approach to St. Malo. — Con- 
cerning the Pardon. — The Lady of Lannion. — Description of St. 
Malo. — The Ramparts. — Chateaubriand. — Ancient Customs. — 
Buildings in the Town. — Breton Ballad. — Piety of the Old In- 
habitants. — Diligences. — The Two Landladies. — Welsh and 
Breton.— The Faded Flower.— Fete Dieu.— The Tomb on the 
Pock. 

E who would thoroughly enjoy a tour in Brit- 
tany ought not to set out with too high antici- 
pations of the sublimity of its scenery, or the 
beauty of its towns. As a general rule you will cer- 
tainly not meet with the fine public buildings of Lyons 
and Bordeaux, the stateliness of Rouen, or the elegance 
of Caen ; nor, on the other hand, in its remote and 
isolated districts, will you come across such frequent 
and magnificent palaces as those of Amboise, Chambord, 
and Chenonceaux. 

As regards the beauties of nature, there are there no 
tall and rugged mountains as in Switzerland, no cliffs 
as stupendous as on the grandest of the Scottish sea- 
boards, no lovely lakes as in Wales and Cumberland. 
In the interior, indeed, there are certain portions of 
the province in which you may travel, miles and miles 
together, on the ordinary high roads without coming 
across anything more remarkable than may be seen in 
the generality of European countries, whilst there are 
likewise particular districts, as in the department of 
the Morbihan especially, in which the broad and open 
moorlands, dismal and desolate, stretch far and wide in 
their uncultivated and well-nigh primaeval state. 




Appearance of the Country. J 



But whilst such a description as this might appear 
at first sight tame and uninviting, it would be equally 
unreasonable to imagine, therefore, that this ancient 
land of Brittany was destitute of charm. This, how- 
ever, is peculiar to itself ; and the traveller who is 
fond of everything which reminds him of remoter 
times and a half- mysterious race, who revels in the 
ruins of picturesque edifices, and who can take a vivid 
and instinctive interest in the language and literature 
of a most remarkable people, will there find abundant 
compensation for the lack of gorgeous palaces, pre- 
cipitous mountains, and wood- encircled lakes. 

Yet nature was not in remoter times by any means 
sparing to these secluded parts. Where she had not 
originally endowed with more imposing grandeur, she, 
at least, was content to conceal most frequently the 
rugged nakedness of the land ; and the forests which 
here and there, even to this day, in their inmost re- 
cesses are still a refuge for the prowling wolf, and 
were once, as in Wales, the stronghold of the Druid, 
testify at any rate to a great equalising plan. These 
forests have now in a great measure disappeared, and 
the lands which they occupied wear in their stead the 
tokens of cultivation and the impress of the skill of 
man. Green fields divided into small allotments, and 
smiling orchards surrounded invariably by earthen 
hedges, above which rise the oak tree, the chestnut, 
and the lime, still give in the distance a forest-like 
character to the pleasing landscape ; though frequently, 
either from the poverty of the land or the idleness of 
the inhabitants, these fields may be seen overrun with 
the spontaneous growth of the furze- bush or the broom, 
which as a plea of utility serve the owners for fuel 
instead of coal or wood. The peasants, indeed, in 



8 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



many of the less frequented parts, are more than a 
century behind the corresponding class of labourers 
in our own country, for everything which their fathers 
did before them they think it necessary still to do ; 
and it is this rudeness of manners and primitiveness of 
idea, equally with its richness in a certain class of 
archseological monuments, which make travelling in 
Brittany acceptable to antiquarian taste. 

Although, indeed, as before remarked, there may be 
few such stately palaces in the province as those, for 
instance, in the neighbourhood of the Loire, which at 
one time or other have been tenanted by royalty, yet 
after all, perhaps, it yields to no other country in the 
number and importance of its old feudal chateaux, 
some of which, though now in an advanced state of 
dilapidation or else in total ruin, were in the period of 
their importance only second to those more princely 
piles. Such, for instance, was the Castle of Clisson, in 
the vicinity of Nantes, a description of which will be 
given further on. This was one of the stateliest in 
Brittany, perhaps it might be added, in all France, 
and was fit for the abode of royalty itself ; but there 
are multitudes of others of inferior size, almost equally 
interesting in their own way. 

As for the towns, though many of them can still 
boast of some one or more features remarkable in an 
architectural point of view, yet there are few so striking 
as the well-known cathedral towns in other parts of 
France, of which Bheims or Amiens may be taken as 
the type. Brittany proper, indeed, if that may be 
designated as such which is still inhabited by a Celtic- 
speaking people, has never in modern times boasted of 
any very imposing or extensive city ; and not a few of 
those leading features of especial architectural merit, 



Appearance of the Country. 9 



which they once possessed, have either been destroyed 
or mutilated by the storm of fanaticism at the period 
of the Revolution ; whilst, alas ! what the ruthlessness 
of time has spared, the cold utilitarian spirit of modern 
civilisation is preparing now to sweep entirely away. 
Notwithstanding all this, there are yet some half-a- 
dozen towns and cities in this ancient province which 
for more than one reason are quite worthy to be 
visited, and which no one having done so need at all 
regret. 

Lastly, to revert once more to its great natural 
attractions, there is much of beauty and interest in 
its wild sea- coast ; and though few of its cliffs lay claim, 
strictly speaking, to the title of stupendous, there are 
portions here and there whose features nearly approach 
to sublimity of character, and which the inhabitants 
themselves, who may have seen nothing on a more 
imposing scale, would after all perhaps be justified in 
designating as such. In short, taking it all in all, 
what with the many natural beauties of the province, 
the ancient language, and manners, and costumes of 
the people, the frequent and important architectural 
and Druidical monuments, and finally, though not 
least, the fact of old Armorica being one of the last 
great strongholds of a sublime and exalted loyalty, the 
refuge of a fidelity to one preponderating idea, which 
neither time nor tyranny has been powerful to efface 
— all this combined is calculated to make it, in the 
eyes of the antiquarian, one of the most interesting 
provinces of France. 

If the traveller therefore can set out with a great 
antecedent enthusiasm, determined as far as possible to 
be pleased with everything, it will be the surest gua- 
rantee to the enjoyment of his tour, and to the plea- 



io The Pardon of Guingamp. 

sures of memory wlien he returns. Brittany, perhaps, 
may not inaptly be compared to the wreck of some 
stately edifice, interesting alike for its associations and 
antiquity, and which is destined one day to rise from 
its ruin in new indeed, and, to the regret of many, far 
different proportions, but, in the taste and judgment of 
a coming century, with infinitely greater beauty and 
importance than before. 

It was about half-past three o'clock in the afternoon 
of a beautiful summer's day that, after a delightful 
passage, the tall and striking edifices of quaint St. 
Malo presented themselves once more to view. The 
entrance to the port, owing to the number of rocks 
and islets, many of them fortified, which stud the bay, 
is somewhat intricate, and nothing can be more in- 
teresting in fine weather than watching the approach 
as the steamer glides quietly in her forward course. 
The town being built on a small, low, rocky peninsula, 
the houses stand thickly clustered together within the 
surrounding walls, though, with the exception of one 
old church tower, unrelieved by any very prominent 
object to add further to the somewhat unusual effect. 
It was low tide, and we were obliged to land in one 
of those large clumsy-looking sailing-boats for which 
the Malouins are so famous, whilst our luggage was 
despatched in another boat by itself, in order to be 
taken to the Custom House, or Douane. 

Amongst the passengers in the craft by which I 
went ashore was an English lady, who had resided 
many years at Lannion in Brittany. She was now on 
her way back, and she mentioned that on the following 
day was to be held the great Pardon of Gruingamp, a 
ceremony which attracted such vast crowds from every 
portion of the province that the streets that evening 



Rules of the Ctistcm House. 1 1 

would be literally swarming with people unable to find 
shelter in any house or inn. 

My first impulse was to set out at once on landing, 
in order, if possible, to reach the town that night ; 
but on further reflection it soon became evident that 
such an attempt would not'only be difficult, but impos- 
sible ; for not even could a hired Vehicle, much less a 
heavy diligence, arrive at its destination before the 
morning was considerably advanced. The lady herself, 
even if she were fortunately in time to clear the 
Custom House, could only hope to reach Dinan that 
night ; whilst the little river boat which would convey 
her thither was already impatiently getting up her 
steam. To go to Guingamp, therefore, and to miss 
the Pardon, would be somewhat of a disappointment, 
so after considering some time what course to follow, 
fate ruled that for the present some of the larger towns 
merely of Brittany should be visited, and that the 
Pardon should be left for the ensuing year. 

The luggage which was to follow us was an in- 
ordinately long time in arriving at the Douane, so 
that those passengers who had made up their minds to 
go on to Dinan that afternoon by the little river 
steamer were at length almost in despair. We had 
received tickets with numbers on them, in the same 
order as that in which we had entered the waiting- 
room, so that this, whilst preventing unnecessary con- 
fusion, gave those who came first the earliest chance. 
It was certainly provoking for the expectant passengers 
to be detained upwards of an hour before their luggage 
was conveyed on shore, the delay suggesting the some- 
what plausible idea of collusion between the authorities 
and the innkeepers of the town. 

At last, when their patience had been well-nigh 



I 2 



The Pardon of Giringamp. 



exhausted, an old-fashioned cart, drawn by a single 
horse with a huge sheepskin harness, the primitiveness 
of which was almost South American, though by no 
means unpicturesque, was seen slowly advancing along 
the quay. After a proportionate delay, the contents 
were at length stowed in the Custom House, the 
steamer alongside growing more and more impatient, 
and the lady of Lannion, who had a very advanced 
number, would most certainly have missed her passage, 
had not some good-natured fellow-traveller obligingly 
exchanged his No. 2 ticket for her own. Hardly had 
she succeeded in leaving the Douane and boarding her 
craft, than the noisy little packet, evidently wishing 
us to understand that tide and time could wait for no 
man, became more uproarious than ever, and in another 
moment was on her way to Dinan, leaving several 
disappointed passengers behind. 

After my own effects had been duly searched and 
handled, and allowed to pass, with a weakness for St. 
Malo which might be humoured for a day or two, I 
retraced my steps along the shady quay, and entering 
the gateway which leads into the town (in a recess 
above which w r as a large figure of the Virgin dressed in 
white lace), I made my way up the unusually narrow 
street, to one of the tall, old-fashioned houses, where I 
had been informed good furnished rooms were to be 
obtained. 

In the whole of Brittany there is not a more charac- 
teristic town than St. Malo. Being bailt on a tongue 
of land, which on three sides is surrounded by the sea, 
and being entirely walled in, the place cannot possibly 
increase in size, and it is chiefly on this account that 
the houses are run up to such an unusual height. So 
narrow are the streets, that it would be difficult for a 



Stroll throitgh St. Malo. 



23 



carriage to pass through many of thern ; in fact, though 
I have been there frequently, with the exception of 
diligences and an occasional cabriolet which are kept 
in an open space near one of the gateways by the 
Quay, I never remember seeing a vehicle in the town. 
From the loftiness of the houses, there is accommoda- 
tion in each of them for several families, and they are 
chiefly tenanted as in Edinburgh, by the flat. The 
staircase leading to my rooms was narrow, dark, and 
winding, and so inconvenient to ascend that the least 
possible quantity of luggage was taken up, the re- 
mainder being left at one of the houses opposite in a 
room behind the shop. 

Once there, however, the quarters proved to be un- 
usually comfortable, and, what was even more essential, 
unusually clean ; they were fitted up with easy chairs 
and mirrors, and the sitting-room still contained a hand- 
some piano, the property of an English lady, one of the 
few who have ever resided at St. Malo, and who had not 
yet fetched it away. It was quite impossible that the 
instrument in question could ever have been brought up 
the three long flights of stairs, so narrow and so tor- 
tuous, but I have a dim recollection of hearing some- 
thing about its having been hoisted up by the window. 

A stroll through the town will be agreeable (say, at 
any rate, a novelty) to anyone whose ideas of pleasant- 
ness are not confined to noble thoroughfares of Parisian 
width, and, it must be added, who can Occasionally 
bear to run the gauntlet through un- Parisian odours. 
I am bound, indeed, in honesty to confess that I have 
seldom met a traveller who takes a delight in St. Malo, 
most of them being anxious to escape from it as quickly 
as they can. Nevertheless, say what they will, the 
walk on the ramparts which surround the town is 



14 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



admirable. You there get a view of the rocks and islets 
with which the bay is studded, and of the far-extending 
coast, and it seemed to me it was interesting at every 
step. A few hundred yards out in the sea is a small 
grass-grown island, on one side of which is a modest 
granite slab, with a cross at the head, surrounded by 
iron railings, and without any inscription. This is the 
last resting-place of the poet, statesman, writer, and 
Breton, Francois Rene de Chateaubriand. One of my 
early recollections was this strange rocky tomb, pre- 
pared indeed, but yet untenanted, for it was always his 
wish to be buried on the spot. Near it are the ruinous 
remains of what is said to have been an ancient monas- 
tery, which was once connected by a subterranean 
passage (in accordance with the tradition of every other 
ancient monastery) with the neighbouring town. 

It may not be uninteresting to remark that St. Malo 
derives its appellation from a Scotchman, Maclou by 
name, who flourished somewhere about the sixth cen- 
tury, and was eventually buried here. The place in 
modern times has given birth to not a few celebrated 
men. The house formerly inhabited by the Chateau- 
briands, the Celtic origin of whose name may be traced 
in the Castle of Brien, is an antique, aristocratic-look- 
ing mansion, with high-pitched roofs, the type of the 
town residences of the old nobility of France. It Is now 
unhappily turned into an hotel ; and they show you a 
room overlooking the sea, in which, amid the bowlings 
of an autumnal equinox, the poet first saw the light. In 
it is a ponderous bed, which reminds you of a cata- 
falque, and which, though not the original, tradition 
will doubtless in another century have turned into the 
same in which he first cried and slept. In the Mairie 
are likewise to be seen the portraits of other distin- 



Description of the Town. 



15 



guished citizens, such as Jacques Cartier, the navigator, 
one of the large tribe of adventurous seamen for which 
St. Malo has always been famous ; as also of De la Bour- 
donnais, whose name is as familiar to Englishmen as to 
Frenchmen, in one of the most poetical stories of Ber- 
nardin de St. Pierre, as Governor of the Isle of France. 

The fact of its being a garrison town, apart from the 
sound of fife and drum, adds considerably to its liveli- 
ness, and the scene in the market-place in the morning 
is usually very striking. Notwithstanding that the 
inhabitants, still hardy seamen, are said to have lost in 
a great measure their ancient characteristic features, 
yet one might almost perhaps say that though very 
little removed from the borders of the province, it wants 
but the language of Lower Brittany to make it in the 
eyes of a stranger the ideal of " la Bretagne breton- 
nante." 

Old things, however, pass rapidly away, and though 
many quaint customs long survived its language, 
owing to intercourse with strangers and with other 
parts of France, much of its once pleasing originality 
will be sought for now in vain. The fairs, for instance, 
of St. Malo have no longer the importance which they 
had in former times, when the people used to flock to 
the islands and forts which stud the bay, and when 
tents were pitched on the beach, and processions of 
monks and friars, amid salvos of artillery, marched in 
solemn order through the expectant crowd. 

The houses inhabited by the higher class, the nobility 
and wealthy merchants of former days, are those nearest 
the Quay at the extremity of the town, which look out 
directly upon the walls ; they are mostly built of 
granite, and are of a good, substantial character, with 
double windows to keep out the cold in winter. Their 



1 6 The Pardon of Guijtgamp. 

high-pitched roofs and their comfortable appearance 
cannot fail to strike the traveller as he comes into the 
town from the water side. There are likewise houses 
here and there in the centre of the town which have 
entrance courtyards, overrun in the summer with flowers 
and trellised plants, and which give one the idea of the 
cool, refreshing habitations of Seville. Many of the prin- 
cipal merchants, however, have now built country seats 
in the immediate vicinity, at St. Ideuc and Parame, and 
reside no longer in the town itself. 

Yet though it abounds in substantial houses, there are 
very few official buildings in St. Malo on a commanding 
scale. On the evening of my arrival I had been advised 
to take a look in passing at the Chapel of the Hospital, 
which was being " splendidly decorated" for the Fete 
Dieu of the following day. I did so, but was not par- 
ticularly struck. The interior, indeed, was certainly 
being fitted up with lace and white hangings, and other 
cunning triumphs of millinery skill, and ornamented 
extensively with artificial flowers, but the building 
itself was not sufficiently grand to call forth enthusiasm. 
The cathedral, in fact, is the only ecclesiastical edifice 
of note. It is large and heavy, and the interior is 
gloomy. The nave is Romanesque, whilst the choir is 
in the pointed style of the twelfth century. Thus, quaint 
and picturesque as the town undoubtedly is, it cannot 
boast of many public monuments to harmonise with the 
otherwise mediaeval character of the place. 

The narrowness of the streets of St. Malo gave rise 
in ancient times to a Breton ballad, which is said to be 
anterior to the thirteenth century. A young lady is 
married to an old and jealous husband ; but she, weary 
of her lord's attentions, slips away by night to a front 
chamber to converse with her lover, who stands at the 



An Ancient Ballad. 



17 



window of an opposite house. Discovering her absence, 
the old man asks the reason why she so frequently leaves 
his side. At first she replies that she loves to watch 
the tall vessels as they come and go. Her husband 
doubts this explanation, and declares it's neither for the 
vessels she deserts him, nor yet for the moon and stars. 
A second time he inquires the reason why. " I rise/' 
said she, " to watch our infant in his cradle but the 
shrewd old man still shakes his head and doubts. Once 
again he demands of her the reason why she flies, when 
she assures him it's a nightingale whose song she comes 
to hear. 

Determined to take away all pretext for desertion, 
he directs his gardener next morning to set a trap for 
the intruder, when, by a curious coincidence, a nightin- 
gale is caught. The old man then strangles the bird, 
and presents it ironically to his faithless wife : " Here, 
then, my young lady, it's for you I've caged it," whilst 
the lover bemoans in piteous accents that for the future 
his opportunities will be effectually removed. One 
would almost think our English opera writer must have 
taken a hint from this old Breton ballad, when he 
makes his " old man grave," and his maid look shy, as 
her lover " jumps from the stile hard by ;" and when 
he points his moral on the delinquent Lubin, — 

" Poppies like these, I own, are rare, 
And of such nightingales' songs beware." 

As a rule, however, the inhabitants of St. Malo were 
of old a pious race, and as early as the eleventh century 
had made a vow that with their own pecuniary re- 
sources, and with the labour of their own hands, they 
would go and assist in erecting the belfry of the Cathe- 

c 



1 8 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



dral of Chartres. Their manners likewise were in accord- 
ance with their profession, and young women who 
decked themselves in the finery of the capital were 
looked upon as worldly-minded, and shunned by their 
alarmed companions. For any of them to go astray 
was an event almost unknown, and suspicion having 
once fallen on a lady of rank, the people became excited, 
and when they met her in the streets sang before her 
their complaint, making at the same time the sign of 
the cross. 

It was quite in accordance with one's ideas of tra- 
velling, to hail once more the sight of a venerable 
diligence in the small open square near the centre of 
the town. In fact, there were four or five of these 
vehicles, of every size, in the neighbourhood of the 
coach office, most of them for the service of the Breton 
towns. Two of these, well freighted, were about to 
start. The crack of the whip, and the va of the driver 
in stentorian accents, were really refreshing, as the 
welcome, lumbering vehicle drove off. But alas ! the 
days of the diligence are well-nigh numbered — the 
inexorable iron road has been long traced out through 
the entire length of the astonished province — already 
the works are in active progress, and in a very few 
years the noisy steam carriage will have usurped the 
long and faithful services of our dear old friends. 

The two flats in the tall house at St. Malo in which I 
was remaining were rented by a couple of widow sisters, 
together with their aged mother. Notwithstanding the 
narrowness of the streets, they expatiated largely on 
the healthiness of the town, saying that there was 
usually very little sickness, and that it was a most 
salubrious place. This is to be accounted for by the 
beneficial effect of the sea breezes, the tide washing the 



Loquacious Landladies. 



19 



walls of the town for at least three-fourths of its extent. 
A lady, they informed me, had once been lodging in 
their house, who had come to them in a very deli- 
cate state. Though they tried everything they could to 
coax her appetite, their guest declared it was no use, 
she had very little inclination for food, and as for her 
spirits, they were so low scarcely anything could give 
her joy. " Wait a few weeks," replied the confident 
hostesses, " and you'll soon find what benefit this good 
sea air will do you." Their predictions were verified, 
for before very long a decided change for the better 
began to take place in the condition of the invalid 
lady. She not only acquired appetite for food, ap- 
preciating doubtless to their full extent the culinary 
talents of her two friends, but her spirits likewise 
(with the aid of her loquacious entertainers) were in 
the end restored to their accustomed flow. 

It is much more agreeable certainly, when travelling, 
to have a talkative than a silent hostess. The sisters 
here seized every opportunity of engaging in a little 
pleasant chat. To all I listened with the deepest 
attention, even to the miracles of their local saints, 
some of which, however, were so remarkable, that 
against my very best endeavours (for I did not wish to 
do. violence to their faith) the faintest smile possible 
would occasionally intrude. At sight of this, a shade 
of disappointment would in turn be manifest in their 
own countenances. " Ah, well!" as they remarked, 
4 'these things, I suppose, don't enter into your reli- 
gion — as for us, it's a portion of our creed." 

Amongst the more interesting of the topics started, 
they told me of a Welsh sailor boy, who was at St. 
Malo not long since, and who could not speak a word 
of French. It was very dull indeed for the poor little 



20 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



fellow; but in a short time the people of the house 
which he frequented saw him engaged in deep con- 
versation with another young sailor — not a country- 
man certainly, but one from a French ship. This 
circumstance puzzled them extremely for some time, 
until at length the latter, who was a Bas Breton, 
informed them of his having discovered that his lan- 
guage was identical with that of his Welsh companion 
— the new friends being able to communicate together 
as any two Frenchmen or Englishmen would have 
done. 

The widows, though they had doffed their weeds, 
were attired in the deepest mourning; nor did they 
fail in due time to give me the reason why. One of 
them had only a few months since lost her only child, 
a girl about twenty-five years of age, who seemed to 
have been loved equally by the aunt as by the mother, 
and to have been in a manner the common property of 
both. She was, however, a helpless cripple. Her 
funeral was attended by at least five hundred people, 
" for they all knew that she had never committed any 
sin, and that she was a little saint." Doubtless of her 
it might well be said — 

She confident falling to sleep, 
Gives Heaven her treasure to keep, 

Nor questions its hidden decrees. 
As dies the sweet smile on her face, 
So passes, nor leaves the least trace, 
The song of the bird in the place, 

Where rustle at eve the beech trees. * 



* " Au ciel elle a rendu sa vie, 
Kt doucement s'est endormie, 

Sans murmurer contre ses lois. 
Ainsi le sourire s' efface, 
Ainsi meurt, sans laisser de trace, 

Le chant de l'oiseau dans le bois." 



The Ftte Dieu. 



That afternoon they had made a pilgrimage to her 
tomb. 

But a marked change had come over my hostesses 
on the Sunday evening — they who had hitherto been 
so buoyant — and when they came to lay the cloth for 
dinner, they were not nearly so talkative as before. 
Here was evidently the effect of some great disap- 
pointment ; in fact, it must be confessed they were 
almost cross. Alas ! a damper had been cast upon 
the enjoyment of the fete, the fete they had anticipated 
with half-childish glee. The morning had been warm 
and brilliant, beautiful and promising, everything the 
most sanguine could have wished. Altars had been 
erected, and whole cartloads of evergreen expended 
on their construction ; entire streets were hung with 
white and spotless drapery, through the piety or 
enthusiasm of the inhabitants of the houses in front of 
which the procession was to pass ; but unfortunately 
just in the very middle of the solemn ceremony, and 
almost without a moment's notice, the sky was all 
hopelessly overcast, and suddenly priests and singing 
men, vestments and sheets, altars and spectators, were 
involved together in the pitiless flood. It certainly 
did pour down in torrents, and almost as quickly 
cleared up ; but it was too late, the ceremony had been 
interrupted, and enthusiasm destroyed. 

When I afterwards walked out, the air was redolent 
with incense, and the streets covered with the remains 
of poppy leaves and box. The drapery, however, had 
been taken in, and the orange trees removed. As the 
last remains of the . solemnity, a number of women 
might have been observed parading the town, dressed 
entirely in white, with long linen veils. Many of 
them were middle-aged, and some quite old. I made 



22 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



inquiries, and found they were members of the society 
of " vieilles filles," or old maids ; but who, though 
in a state of " single blessedness," had never been re- 
strained by the imposition of any vow. 



THE TOMB ON THE BOOK. 
♦ 

The winds at war, the wild waves' flow, 
No harping half so sweet I know. 
As in my waking ears there rang 

The music of that mystic sea, 
So weird, so wild, the tune it sang, 

Oh sleeping, let it sing to me ! 

A sacred wish : the cherish' d word 

He speaks ; he dies ; his prayer is heard : 

White clouds of surge come driving on, 

Long heaving waves in mountains run, 
To vent their vengeful ire upon 

The mansion of a sea-born son. 

As day breaks forth so grey and grim, 
His latest morn has risen on him ; 
While still, as wont, the trumpet calls 

To arms, for him no martial swell 
Bears back from those old bastion' d walls 

The echo of the last rappel. 

The storms their cycles still go round, 
Wild winds and weird for every sound ; 
About his tomb the warring tides 

Eage unsubdued, and roll and roar ; 
And in his house, rock-hewn he bides 

Whom winds and waves can wake no more. 



CHAPTER II. 




To Rennes. — Castle of Hedee. — Anne of Brittany. — Our Drunken 
Driver. — Description of Rennes. — An Old Feudal Chateau. — 
Starting for Nantes. — Beautiful Country. — Eomance of Travel. — 
Nantes. — Austrian Prisoners. — Objects of Interest. — The Duchess 
de Berri. — The Cathedral. — St. Nicholas. — Les Hirondelles. 

jIFF for Hermes. What better opportunity for 
seeing the country than when seated in the 
banquette of that enormous diligence? The 
day is scorching, but whilst in motion there is a tem- 
pering breeze. In the neighbourhood of St. Malo a 
few fields of tobacco here and there are seen. The leaf 
is sent off to the Government manufactory at Morlaix, 
where I saw a poor specimen made up for soldiers at 
fifteen sous a pound. Some of the villages through 
which we pass have very Breton-sounding names — St. 
Pierre de Plesguen for instance. Here there is an old 
and somewhat fine church. The next to this is St. 
Pleugeuneuc, then St. Domineue, then Tinteniac. At 
this last the church has a small portion of cloister on 
the south side. All traces, however, of the Breton lan- 
guage have long since disappeared from these parts. 

The first really striking spot you come to is Hedee. 
As you approach it, a well- wooded hill becomes visible 
on your right ; whilst in front, on a rocky eminence 
which juts out into a point where two roads meet in 
the form of the letter V, stand the remains of an old 
castle, formerly the property of Anne of Brittany. 
This lady, with a duchy for her dower, as may easily 



24 



The Pardon of Ginngamp. 



be imagined, had no lack of suitors. Engaged in a war 
with France, whilst a portion of her own subjects sided 
against her, she applied for assistance to Henry VII. 
of England, who sent her six thousand troops. The 
Marshal de Rieux, however, did all he could to persuade 
Henry of the policy of forcing Anne to marry the Sire 
d'Albret, who was quite an old man. Anne, who was 
still in her teens, was naturally indignant at the propo- 
sition, and foiled the Marshal by steering clear of her 
allies, of whom she might justly have exclaimed, " Save 
me from my friends," for a plot had been formed to 
ensnare her into the English camp, and to seize upon 
her person, in order to compel her to become the old 
man's wife. 

The Duchess, of course, preferred a husband of her 
own choosing, and finally pitched upon Maximilian of 
Germany, who married her by proxy. The Emperor 
sent over the Duke of Nassau as his temporary substi- 
tute, and who, according to the German custom, fulfilled 
his mission by putting one of his bare legs into the bed. 
D'Albret, in his fury at losing the young lady, coolly 
made over the town of Nantes, of which he was com- 
mandant, to the King of France, for a pension of 
25,000 livres. Charles VIII. being thus master of the 
chief town of Brittany, began himself to make pro- 
posals to Anne, who, in despair, would have gone off to 
look for her husband, but that unfortunately she was 
besieged at Rennes, and could not possibly get away. 
Sooner than lose her liberty, the poor, persecuted 
Duchess, who had never yet met her phlegmatic spouse, 
consented to receive the other monarch, who was sigh- 
ing for her at the gate ; the Pope having sent her word 
that she might do so if she chose. 

Who is there who will not agree that if the prize 



A Drunken Driver. 



25 



was worth contending for, it served Maximilian quite 
right to lose it for not comimg over for it himself? 
Eleven years after this she became a real widow by the 
death of Charles. His successor, the Duke of Orleans, 
now Louis XII., not wishing to lose Brittany, took it 
into his possession by marrying the widowed Queen. 
Anne, however, died at Blois, at the comparatively early 
age of thirty-seven. The duchy was at length formally 
united to France in the month of August, 1532. The 
name of this sovereign is universally known throughout 
the province, more so, it struck me, than any other ; 
and it is astonishing in Brittany how often you come 
across some historical ruin associated with the memory 
of the Duchess Anne. 

On passing the ruins of her castle we took the road 
to the right, which leads up an unusually steep hill, 
and were obliged to put on an additional horse, for our 
diligence was one of those immense vehicles which 
contained three different compartments besides the one 
above. We in the banquette, however, had long since 
perceived that our driver was hopelessly drunk, and 
could with difficulty keep his seat. Naturally, there- 
fore, we were not on roses at the idea of our lives being 
thus in the hands of a good-for-nothing idiot. He not 
only cut all the corners most recklessly sharp, but per- 
sisted in keeping us on the edge of the road where there 
was generally a very ugly slope, if not an actual ditch. 
Occasionally we were just on the point of coming to a 
standstill, and it was quite a relief, when the summit of 
the long hill was gained, that we had escaped rolling 
backwards and being capsized whilst one of these dan- 
gerous pauses was taking place. Right glad were we 
when we at length found ourselves at the end of the 
stage ; but what was our dismay to perceive in a few 



26 The Pardon of ' Guingamp. 



moments that though the horses were changed, the 
driver himself retained his seat. It was somewhat 
singular that with about fifteen different stages between 
St. Malo and Nantes, this was the only man who drove 
us for more than one of these. 

It was now really quite alarming to see the sot reel- 
ing to and fro. We had several times spoken to the 
conductor on the subject, but he invariably told us there 
was no danger, until, seeing that the fellow only grew 
worse, we at length insisted that the other should go in 
front and take the reins himself, there being room for 
two upon the seat. The conductor, however, in spite 
of violent threats and remonstrances, could not get the 
reins into his hands. He only received for reply that 
it was all right, together with a horrible leer of the left 
eye, which completed the Bacchanalian look. Neverthe- 
less, seeing at length that there was every prospect of 
something disastrous about to happen, he endeavoured 
to take them into his hands by force, but was quite as 
unsuccessful as before. 

A loud altercation now ensued; their fists were 
clenched, and they were on the point of coming to blows, 
when, as the least of two evils, we requested the con- 
ductor to desist, because, if the poor little man had been 
knocked over, we should have been left entirely to the 
tender mercies of our senseless guide. Though he could 
not get the reins into his possession, he did some ser- 
vice by occasionally giving them a rapid jerk, and pull- 
ing the horses into the middle of the road when we 
were siding off towards the ditch. Had we been going 
down hill instead of up, to a certainty we should all of 
us have come to grief. 

At length the stage came to an end. Our friend 
alighted as well as he could, but he smashed the win- 



Entrance to Raines. 



27 



dows of the coupe in his attempt, and then fell at whole 
length into the road. He attempted in a few moments 
to right himself, but being unable to stand, he was soon 
again lying low with his face upon the ground. At 
last, after a great effort, he staggered off to the public- 
house hard by, leaving us in a state of surprise that he 
had not long before fallen from his seat. And this was 
the man who for nearly two hours had had the lives of 
so many people in his hands ! So much for cheap 
brandy, which nowhere has more ardent votaries than 
in Brittany. Our new driver had watched all the latter 
portion of the proceedings, and he congratulated us 
heartily on our escape. On arriving at Rennes the 
officials at the coach-office were made acquainted with 
the incident by the conductor himself, who had to give 
account of the broken window ; and, for the safety of 
future passengers, it is to be hoped the man was dis- 
missed from their employ. 

The entrance to this town is by no means striking. 
Notwithstanding that a railway passes through it, the 
yard was full of diligences, of all shapes and sizes. 
Though probably now only in a state of sufferance, 
there were seven or eight of them in full use. There 
is nothing whatever antique in the appearance of the 
town. It was almost entirely destroyed by a calami- 
tous fire in 1720. The modern streets are undoubtedly 
handsome, and it can boast of two very striking 
squares. 

The ancient ramparts have long since disappeared, 
and shady boulevards have been constructed in their 
stead. Of public walks certainly it has no lack. Rennes, 
however, derives its chief interest from its having been 
the capital of ancient Brittany (though Nantes was in 
some degree its rival in this respect), and from having 



28 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



been the seat of the Breton Parliament up to the Revo- 
lution of '89. 

Even at seven o'clock in the morning the heat was 
far too overpowering to take any real pleasure in a walk. 
Nevertheless, once out of the scorching streets, ample 
shade was to be found beneath the lime trees of the 
Mail, a superb avenue which was planted in 1785. At 
the extremity of this walk, the Ille joins its waters 
with those of the Vilaine, the combination of these two 
names giving rise to that inevitable pun which the in- 
habitants are so fond of using to express the turbid 
character of the streams in the vicinity of the town. 

The most conspicuous building in Rennes is the Cathe- 
dral, a Grecian device, which does not merit a second 
visit. The only interesting edifice, and that from asso- 
ciation, is the Palais de Justice, the foundations of 
which were laid in 1618, and here the ancient Breton 
Parliament once sat. Outside there is very little to 
admire, for though two million francs were lavished 
on its construction, architects at that period knew no 
longer how to build. It is deplorable, indeed, to think 
how that for upwards of two centuries, in so many large 
towns, the real principles of architecture have been 
sacrificed to the vulgar and easier task of internal 
decoration. For many a long age, therefore, unless at 
enormous expense, there will be no remedy for this. 

It is not surprising if the capital of ancient Brittany, 
a province which so lately legislated for itself, and 
which is so rich in traditions of nobility of former days, 
should be slow to forget the reminiscences of its glory, 
and welcome alike to supremacy of will the form and 
fashion of each changing hour. Accordingly, we find 
that the neighbourhood of Rennes is the very centre and 
stronghold of Legitimist ideas. 



A A r obleman of the Old School. 29 

Chateaubriand tells us how, when staying as a child 
at his father's country seat, the old feudal Castle of 
Combourg, the only visitors during the year who broke 
on the monotony of their life were two Breton noble- 
men, who, in the depth of winter, on their way to Par- 
liament, claimed in passing the hospitality of the place. 
They were mounted on horseback, with swords by their 
sides and pistols at their saddle-bows, and were accom- 
panied by a servant, who carried on his horse a huge 
portmanteau. The old Viscount, who had all the affable 
manners of the vieille cour, received them in the midst 
of wind and rain bareheaded at the castle door. The 
guests in the evening amused their hospitable enter- 
tainer with the history of the wars in Hanover in which 
they had taken part ; and were conducted at night to 
apartments in the north tower of the building, one of 
which was named after Queen Christina, and contained 
a ponderous bed of state, seven feet by seven, sustained 
at each corner by the gilt effigy of a Cupid, and fitted 
with magnificent hangings of crimson silk. Early the 
next morning the cavalcade might have been seen wend- 
ing its way from the grand old chateau, through the 
silent country, past the feudal ponds of Combourg, on 
its road to Pennes. 

The Parliament House, therefore, is One of the few 
things calculated to remind a stranger of ancient Brit- 
tany in this new old town. 

At seven o'clock in the evening the diligence starts 
for Nantes. For several hours we pass an uninterrupted 
succession of the most highly- cultivated country, whose 
uniform characteristic is that of pasture-land divided 
into very small fields (frequently orchards), surrounded 
by hedges of earth, which are thickly planted with the 
Spanish chestnut, the poplar, and the lime. The quan- 



3 o 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



tities of the first-mentioned tree are very great, as the 
fruit in many districts serves the peasant instead of 
bread, whilst so small are the fields that the mass of 
surrounding foliage almost gives the landscape, when 
viewed at a little distance, the appearance of one con- 
tinuous wood. 

As far as could be judged in the gathering darkness, 
the same beautiful country, which certainly entitles this 
portion at least of the empire to the name of " la belle 
France," continued for twenty-five or thirty miles, 
when it seemed gradually to become wild and barren. 
Towards midnight, on waking up from a short sleep, I 
perceived that we were traversing a very uninviting dis- 
trict, almost entirely bare of trees. A few hours more 
or less on the journey being immaterial, it was impos- 
sible now to avoid the reflection that this was by no 
means the least agreeable mode of travelling. There is 
in these days of steam something almost amounting to 
a positive satisfaction (though not many people will 
echo the sentiment) in passing the whole night in the 
banquette of a diligence ; and I would not have ex- 
changed the opportunity for the comfortable cushions 
of a railway carriage on any account. 

It was interesting to watch the dawn of day as we 
drove along. A few hours ago at Rennes we had been 
almost roasted to death by the heat ; now, whilst brush- 
ing through the keen morning air, it was almost as if 
we had been transported to a region of ice. In one of 
the wildest parts of the route we had taken up a driver 
who looked appropriately wild ; and as the light broke 
gradually in upon him, it revealed the outline of a most 
fantastic dress. It was as different from the incumbrous 
costume of an ordinary French driver as is that of a 
heavy mounted dragoon from the uniform of a dapper 



Approach to Nantes. 



3i 



soldier of the line. His head was encased in a tight- 
fitting cotton handkerchief, over which was an exten- 
sive cap, with lappets coming down close over the ears. 
A heavy antique cloak of faded plaid covered his 
gigantic body, which made him appear like a vast 
mountain in front of us, narrowing most inconveniently 
the field of view. A pair of wooden shoes protected his 
feet. His pace was as slow as his appearance, for under 
his government we did not proceed to the extravagance 
of more than five miles an hour, and in all probability 
the horses did not object to the leisurable and dignified 
dead march at which they were thus strangely being 
led. 

The country had again become beautiful, and, as we 
approached Nantes, we passed on either side of us one 
or two large fields of vines. The stunted towers of the 
cathedral may be seen from far. The entrance into the 
town on this side is not at all prepossessing. Driving 
through a number of inferior streets, we finally drew 
up on the Place Graslin. It was just five o'clock. To 
retire to rest in such broad daylight was out of the 
question ; so, in anticipation of an intended sojourn of a 
week, it appeared to be a good opportunity in the cool 
of the morning to go in search of furnished rooms. 
Accordingly, taking a factor from the door of the 
diligence office, I followed in his wake, and allowed 
myself to be led to various quarters of the town. 

Vain delusion ! Though he made his way to some of 
the very best streets, the apartments shown were all 
comfortless and dirty, even some which stood opposite 
the Cour Napoleon, a double terrace of the highest 
class. How surprising in such a handsome town as 
Nantes ! Later in the day the fates were more propi- 
tious, and indicated rooms particularly adapted to the 



32 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



state of the weather, the house being one which formed 
the principal side of a private passage or court, and was 
overgrown with vines ; orange trees were standing close 
by in their wooden tubs, and a verandah of evergreens 
and other creeping plants made the chamber on the 
ground floor impervious to the terrible fierceness of the 
sun. 

The evening was the only time to venture forth, for 
the heat was such as few but the "oldest inhabitants" 
could recollect. Nantes is certainly a very striking 
town. It has a population of 108,000, and ranks fourth 
in size amongst the provincial cities of France — Lyons, 
Marseilles, and Bordeaux being superior to it in this 
respect. Situated on the Loire, it has handsome quays 
extending along the banks of the river for upwards of 
two miles. The houses in this direction are all in the 
lofty style of another century, and are constructed of a 
fine light stone. The southern part of the town is built 
on a number of islands, which are here formed by the 
widening of the stream. They are connected together 
by six or seven bridges, and it is only on passing on to 
the second or third of them that this remarkable pecu- 
liarity is observed. One or two of the ancient houses 
(on the He Feydeau, for instance) have more the 
appearance of palaces than private residences, and bear 
the stamp of the magnificence of a middle age ; but 
this quarter has ceased to be fashionable, and their 
glory has capriciously passed away. 

The Quay was formerly planted along its entire 
length with patriarchal trees, which a lady told me she 
remembered in their perfection, but they were all 
destroyed to make way for the railway, which intrudes 
itself through the very centre of the town. 

The principal points of shade are now the Cour St. 



Austrian Prisoners. 



33 



Pierre and the Cour St. Andre, at the eastern extremity, 
near which is the aristocratic quarter, or Faubourg 
St. Germain, of Nantes. Strolling through these pro- 
menades might have been observed a number of Aus- 
trian prisoners, fat, clownish- looking men, in blue 
trousers and brown-holland coats. They could not 
certainly be accused of a martial appearance, and suffered 
infinitely by comparison with the French soldiers. 
They, however, appeared extremely happy — much more 
so, in fact, than ever they could be chez eux, as somebody 
with much national pride remarked. They were frater- 
nising with every one, and were continually being 
treated with wine and cigars, and were in reality much 
less prisoners than guests. No one, however, with a 
moderate amount of liberty could very well be dull in 
such a lively town as Nantes. Some time afterwards, 
when at Blois, I was pointed out in the courtyard of 
the castle a hapless young Austrian who was completely 
homesick, and whom nobody was able to console. 

In his search after objects of interest, of which there 
are not a few in Nantes, the traveller will doubtless 
light, amongst other things, upon the remains of the 
Manoir de la Touche, a very ancient mansion, formerly 
the property of the Dukes of Brittany, and subsequently 
purchased as a monastery by a community of Irish 
monks. The establishment, however, having been 
broken up in the time of the first Napoleon, the building 
is now gradually going to decay. The Cemetery of La 
Misericorde, the Pere la Chaise of Nantes, is a locality 
also well worthy of a visit. At one end of the old 
Protestant portion, now disused, I noticed a row of tall 
evergreens, which were so close to the boundary wall 
that they appeared to have been planted there merely 
to screen the masonry from view. On looking behind 

D 



34 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



these, however, I discovered, amongst "a few torn 
shrubs," three solitary, neglected stones, traced over 
with Hebrew inscriptions, and now almost effaced by 
the unsparing hand of time. 

Thus truly "in every nation" man arrogates to him- 
self the judgment which even He as yet reserves who 
is said to be " no respecter of persons and here, in 
death, the Catholic still scorns the Protestant, and the 
Protestant the Jew. 

As for the Castle of Nantes, it is still a vast and im- 
posing structure, and in modern times has had the 
honour of receiving within its walls a no less illustrious 
prisoner than the mother of the present legitimate 
sovereign of France. In the earlier portion of the 
reign of Louis Philippe, viz., in 1832, La Vendee was 
being violently agitated by political intrigues. One 
afternoon in November the inhabitants of Nantes were 
much surprised on seeing, not only the troops of the 
line, but also the National Guard, surrounding care- 
fully a stack of houses in one particular quarter of the 
town. Their astonishment was soon afterwards in- 
creased by hearing that the Duchess de Berri had 
clandestinely arrived at Nantes, and was suspected to 
be concealed in the house of some ladies of the name of 
Duguigny. Alas ! she had been betrayed by a Jew. 

Nevertheless, though an unremitting search had been 
carried on throughout the night, the Prefect of the 
town and a military personage of high rank themselves 
taking an active part in the proceedings, their labours 
had been productive of no effect. Early in the morn- 
ing, however, affairs took a different turn. Two men 
who had been stationed in the upper part of the house, 
and were standing near the fire-place, fancied they per- 
ceived a movement at the side of the hearth. Their 



Adventures of the Duchess de Berri. 35 

suspicions being excited, they were on the point of 
breaking down that portion of the chimney-piece, when 
suddenly it slid back, as though accidentally, and the 
Duchess de Berri in another moment stepped into the 
room, her hair disheyelled, and but partially clothed. 
Three other persons likewise, now almost scorched, 
issued from the hiding-place, whilst the Duchess, ac- 
knowledging her identity, requested the gens d'armes to 
forbear offering them any harm. Almost immediately 
afterwards the drums beat, and the troops assembled 
before the house with as much ceremony and music as 
if a glorious victory had been gained. The prisoners 
forthwith were conducted to the castle, from whence, 
two days afterwards, they were taken in a steamboat to 
St. Nazaire, at the mouth of the Loire, there to await 
the arrival of a Government frigate, which was to 
transfer them to Blaye, in the Grironde, not far from 
Bordeaux. The companions of the Duchess were Made- 
moiselle de Kersabiec, the Count de Menars, and Mon- 
sieur de Gruibourg, who evidently must have belonged 
to Breton families by their names. 

And you, also, you kind, good ladies Duguigny, all 
honour to your loyal deed. How I wish for your 
chivalry you had succeeded in your attempt ! It was 
only about eighteen months ago that I saw the death of 
one of these high-minded women recorded in the public 
journals as having taken place at Moiiaix, where she 
then lived. 

With respect to the ecclesiastical monuments of this 
city, Nantes is now at any rate of average richness. 
The cathedral, which, if the original design had been 
carefully carried out, would have been a sumptuous 
building, owing not only to its incompleteness, but to 
the shocking mutilations to which, during the Revolu- 



36 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



tion, it was exposed, can with difficulty be spoken of at 
the present day. The towers, in the first place, are low 
and unfinished, and scarcely rise higher than the roof. 
The western front has a cold and uninviting aspect, 
though the remains of the sculptures over the large 
door show that at one time it was a marvellous work of 
art. The extent to which the mutilations were carried 
during the Revolution may be best judged of by the 
fact that workmen were employed during seventy days 
in destroying fleurs-de-lys, armorial bearings, and other 
decorations in every part. Twenty-six years afterwards, 
to avoid the trouble of restoration, a general clearance 
of the debris was made, and only the less injured por- 
tions left. 

Nevertheless, on entering the cathedral, the propor- 
tions of the nave and the dignity of the tall, massive 
pillars are at once imposing. The unusual height to 
which the roof is carried (120 feet — that of Westmin- 
ster Abbey is 104) tends greatly towards producing 
this beautiful effect. The choir is Romanesque, and of 
the tenth century, and does not well harmonise with 
the more modern portion, whose date is of the fifteenth. 
Various restorations have taken place of late years, and 
are still being carried on ; and it is possible that in the 
course of time this venerable building may still be 
elevated to the rank to which it was originally de- 
signed. 

The next church worthy of note is that of St. Nicho- 
las, not in this instance an ancient building, which, 
like all other ancient buildings in France, has been 
mutilated and spoiled during the Revolution, but a 
splendid modern Gothic edifice in the style of the 
thirteenth century. The nave has double aisles, both 
north and south ; and what would otherwise be called 



Les Hirondelles. 



37 



the transepts are formed by the open breadth of these 
merging into one. The details are perfect in every 
part, and there is no fear of affirming that this church 
of Mons. Lassus, when fully completed, although 
perhaps not the largest, will be one of the most 
pretentious constructions of modern times. The neces- 
sary funds for the work were raised almost entirely by 
voluntary subscriptions — only two grants of a hundred 
thousand francs having been made by Government and 
the town. 



LES HIKONDELLES. 



Home of my youth ! my childhood's love ! 

In beauty winds the one 
Fair path I hold all paths above, 

With whitethorn bloom o'errun : 
I would I were a flower as sweet, 
So would I oft the bright eye meet 

Of the lord of the manor's son. 

What time 'neath each soft vernal shower, 

Or softer dews, he'd see 
My budding charms, O blissful hour ! 

O happy day for me ! 
When cull'd by him whose hand doth nigh 
For whiteness with the whitethorn vie, 

Near his dear heart I'd be. 

Ah, fate ! when twilights cold advance, 

He seeks a distant shore ; 
Thy welcome, envied land of France, 

Now whitethorns bloom no more : 
Farewell till rosebuds ope again, 
And summer suns on flowers would fain 

All their lost lustre pour. 



The Pardon of Gtiingamp. 



When Nature rues her slothful sleep, 
(Too drear that sleep hath been,) 

When linnets chirp and bluebells peep 
Beside the corn-fields green, 

His sweet voice, his who comes to stay 

The pomp of our great Pardon day, 
Stirs the still sombre scene. 

Dear days ! your charms too early die ; 

How blest the warm hearts whom, 
More loved than we, when swallows fly, 

He seeks ere storm-clouds loom ! 
Ah ! why not always genial spring, 
That linnets might, and love-birds sing, 

And vernal whitethorns bloom ? 



CHAPTER III. 




Clisson. — The G-arenne. — Ahelard and Heloise. — An Enthusiastic. 
Gnide. — The Castle of Clisson — The Royalists. — Visitors' Book. — 
Effects of the Heat.— Up the Erdre.— Nort.— The Weddings.— 
Monsieur le Cure. — Peace Rejoicings. — During the Retreat. 

jIMONGrST the numerous interesting excursions 
which can be made in the neighbourhood of 
Nantes, the mention of two of the most beau- 
tiful will here suffice. The first of these shall be to 
Clisson, a small town or village, twenty- one miles off 
in a southerly direction, and which can be reached by 
one of the public conveyances, which starts in the 
morning at seven o'clock. We traverse no less than 
six bridges in passing out of the town, and are here 
able to obtain a proper view of the breadth of the 
Loire, which, clear of islands, is at this point con- 
siderable. A large number of quaint-looking fishing- 
boats on either side give the river a very picturesque 
effect. The road to Clisson is marked by little else 
than extensive vineyards the whole way. In the 
winter season, doubtless, when the low vines are 
denuded of their foliage, it must be a somewhat 
monotonous route. 

The appearance of Clisson is striking. Approaching 
it on high ground, you see below, in a deep valley on 
the right, a small town of Italian-looking houses, 
which present a decidedly foreign aspect ; while the 
ruins of a vast, massive, and time-honoured castle, 



40 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

towering loftily above them, contrast strangely with 
the modern character of these. A tortuous river, 
spanned by ancient bridges, winds gracefully through 
the vale ; whilst the intermediate hollow is crossed by 
a majestic granite viaduct of fifteen arches. 

The town contains two very good hotels. From one 
of these the traveller may proceed after breakfast to 
view the attractive grounds of the Garenne, a cele- 
brated estate belonging to a Mons. Lemot. No place 
probably in France has undergone more vicissitudes 
than has Clisson during the last seventy years. Ori- 
ginally in possession of a noble and powerful family of 
that name, whose influence was materially felt in the 
wars between Brittany and France, it subsequently 
passed into the hands of the Princes de Rohan Soubise, 
until the epoch of the Revolution, when, siding with 
the Royalist La Vendee, the territory of which province 
it immediately adjoins, the whole place, including the 
magnificent castle, was reduced to ashes by the Repub- 
lican army, before whose presence the inhabitants fled 
away, so that not a single soul remained. 

A few years afterwards, a gentleman of Nantes, who 
had recently arrived from Rome, paid a visit to this 
region of devastation, the beauties of which so charmed 
him that he determined to take up his residence in the 
place. Purchasing property, he there erected a vast 
museum, which he filled with objects of Italian art ; 
but his affairs at length becoming embarrassed, he 
offered them for sale, and they were taken up by the 
city of Nantes in 1810. The estate of the Garenne 
about that time came into the hands of Baron Lemot, a 
sculptor, who had likewise been struck by the fascina- 
tion of the place. Desirous of saving from entire 
destruction the remains of the imposing castle, which 



Grounds of the Garenne. 



41 



were consecrated by reminiscences of such absorbing 
interest, and identified more especially with tbe his- 
torical exploits of Oliver de Clisson, the last possessor 
of that name, and Constable of France, he bought it 
at the hands of Government, who had seized upon it 
after its dismantlement, and by this means has been 
instrumental in preventing the ruins from being entirely 
swept away. 

The grounds of the Garenne are beautiful; everything 
here combining in a peculiar manner to create the 
charm — wood, water, and hill — and an imposing ruin 
in the foreground to enhance considerably the magical 
effect. There was a peculiar silence in the air that 
day, which likewise added strangeness to the scene. 
The heat was streaming down as if from a tropical 
sky ; scarcely any one was abroad except from neces- 
sity ; very few from pleasure only ; and the appearance 
of the Italian-looking village in the valley on the 
right might very well have favoured the illusion that 
the latitude at that moment was considerably lower in 
the sunny south. 

From the profession which the father of the present 
proprietor followed, it was not surprising that sculp- 
tures of classical design should have been scattered 
everywhere about. Here there was an ancient tomb, 
there a column from the Castle of Madrid; now a 
temple of Vesta, built on the model of that at Tivoli ; 
whilst now a break in the wood disclosed on the oppo- 
site bank the Mausoleum of Friendship, where lie the 
remains of the Baron and of the two brothers who had 
imported from Italy their classic tastes. From an 
artificial terrace at one spot there is a charming view 
of the surrounding beauties, and of the dark waters of 
the Sevre running through the wooded valley below. 



42 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

u Et in Arcadia ego " was an inscription well appro- 
priate to this fascinating place. 

Descending the hill towards the left you come to the 
river itself, which, with its well-wooded banks, its dark 
stones and rocks, and a water-mill on the other side, 
makes the enchantment complete. Through an opening 
in the foliage on the opposite bank a tall pillar may 
be perceived, just beyond which the territory of that 
loyal and conservative department of La Vendee be- 
gins. The temptation to cross over was great, but the 
heat was killing, and forbade the attempt. 

Not the least of the associations of Clisson is that 
which connects it with the names of Abelard and 
Heloise. A grotto bearing the name of the latter is 
still shown ; but on what authority the statement of 
its having been frequented by the lovers is now made 
is not very clear. Abelard, however, was certainly 
born in 1079 at Le Pallet, which is about four leagues 
from Nantes. He complained of being obliged to live 
amongst the Bretons, and of not understanding their 
language, which he describes as " lingua mihi ignota 
et turpis." It was there that Heloise was delivered of 
a son, who was so beautiful that Astralabe was the 
name given to him on that account^ Not far from her 
grotto is a long trellised walk overtrained with vines, 
adding thus another characteristic to the place. 

Traces of the Roman dominion are not unfrequent 
in this locality. Latin inscriptions in that character, 
to whatever epoch they are referrible, are visible on 
many of the rocks. A grand road between Poictiers 
and Brest, which passed by Clisson, was one of the 
monuments of their energy and skill. 

It was not in one sense a disadvantage to have been 
accompanied through the grounds by an enthusiastic 



Castle of Clisson. 



43 



guide, who had all the inscriptions at his fingers' ends, 
and who deciphered them, or rather called them forth 
from the storehouse of his memory, in a manner well 
calculated to provoke a smile. He was a pompous 
little man, brimful of poetry and conceit. He strutted 
about in the most comical fashion, and was every other 
minute coming to a stand-still to save the precious 
drops of literature which were leaking out. His ad- 
miration of nature, nevertheless, was genuine, and 
much must be forgiven him on that account. 

And I have often since wondered who was the tall, 
half-military-looking individual who followed our party 
about, as though he were on duty rather than on 
pleasure, asking no question of the guide, and taking 
seemingly no interest in the beauties of the place — 
who appeared as though he were well acquainted with 
the spot, and who was not asked, like ourselves, to 
insert his name in the visitor's book. It struck us that 
he would be following the very next party about like- 
wise, and that his duty was to make the best use pos- 
sible of his ears. 

Bidding adieu to our enthusiastic friend, near whose 
house is a delicious spring of ice-cold water, we shall 
now bend our steps leisurely towards the castle. 
Ascending slowly a long flight of stairs, we arrive at 
the door of a high Norman archway, and ringing the 
bell are admitted into the now dismantled courtyard, 
which is overgrown with trees, and where stands the 
house of the concierge on the right. The space of 
ground which the fortress occupies (for it was both a 
fortress and a feudal residence) gives a grand idea of 
what its former glory must have been. It stands im- 
movably on the solid rock, and, where this was wanting, 
vast walls were built to support the other portions of 



44 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



the gigantic pile. Its founder must have been among 
the powerful seigneurs of his time, when, as history 
tells us, in 1230 he took part with the Regent, Blanche 
of Castile, against the Duke of Brittany, and received 
her in his castle, with her son Louis IX., the young 
king. Scarcely anything now remains entire ; but even 
as a ruin, the keep, the towers, the gateway, and every 
other part are massive in decay. The very fire-place in 
the kitchen is a room in itself, and could have roasted 
several oxen entire at the same time. Amongst other 
remains is that of the chapel in which was celebrated 
the marriage of Francis II. with Margaret de Foix ; also 
the prison in which Margaret de Clisson held captive 
J ohn V., whilst she herself was besieged at Champtoceau. 

The view of the river and the surrounding country 
from the giddy height at one of the upper windows 
would alone have been worth the fatigue of the day. 
The woman who now lives here with her family 
mentioned that her own father was concierge of the 
castle at the latter part of the last century. He saved 
himself during the Revolution by flight. The place 
was burning for no less than two months. This is not 
surprising when we consider the vast area enclosed 
within its walls. The piece of ground which was 
formerly the Place d'Armes is now overrun with 
shady trees. Indeed, in this imposing ruin there is 
foliage throughout. In the centre of that space is a 
well into which, in 1794, during the bloody wars of La 
Vendee, a number of unfortunate Royalists of either 
sex, who had concealed themselves in the subterranean 
chambers of the castle, were precipitated and destroyed. 
The number of victims has been estimated by some at 
four hundred, though others declare that not more 
than thirty perished in this way. 



Death by Sun-stroke. 



45 



The following characteristic and not inappropriate 
remark I extracted out of a quantity of common- 
place observations from the visitors' book : — " J'ai 
visite Tantique Chateau de Clisson, refuge de la loyaute 
qui n'est plus de nos temps, et desirerais que nos 
ancetres sortiraient de leurs tombeaux, pour donner a 
leurs descendants des lecons d'honneur, qu'ils ont si 
bien oubliees. — Marie des Valois." 

The contrast between the cool shades of Clisson and 
the heat and glare of the dusty road on our way back 
to Nantes was painful. We had not proceeded more 
than one-third of our journey homewards, when sud- 
denly, on gaining the summit of a hill, one of the three 
horses attached to our vehicle dropped down upon the 
road. A crowd of people soon collected round us to 
help the driver in raising it up, thinking it had only 
stumbled and would soon be able to proceed ; but the 
creature had died almost without a struggle, from a 
sun-stroke, and had scarcely even moved when on the 
ground. The man shed tears, and was in great dis- 
tress at the occurrence, and said his master had only 
had it in his possession for three weeks. We went on 
for a considerable time with only two horses, although 
one of the animals had been terribly chafed by the fall 
of the other, and his skin torn off in several places, 
presenting a most pitiable sight. After a time we 
again took a third a ta public-house on the roadside, 
though the driver, undeterred by the previous accident, 
continued still to show himself unsparing of the whip. 

Another enjoyable excursion which may be made in 
the neighbourhood of Nantes is that to the town or 
village of Nort, in a small steamer which plies daily on 
the Erdre, a branch of the Loire. The scenery on the 
banks is varied, and in parts most exquisite. Here 



4 6 



The Pardon of Gtcingamp. 



and there the hard and rugged cliffs rise up precipi- 
tately from the water, whilst in other parts the rocky 
conformation of the banks is partially concealed by the 
covering of trees with which they are adorned. For 
the first half of the way is passed a constant succession 
of agreeable country seats embowered in foliage, whose 
appearance conveys to the mind the perfection of rural 
happiness and delight. Every now and then the 
sound of the bell on board the little steamer announces 
her approach to the inhabitants of either shore, and 
she frequently draws up to let out or take in passengers 
at some small town or village by the way. Not un- 
frequently also a skiff or two may be observed in the 
vicinity of one or other of the many picturesque cha- 
teaux, putting off to meet the boat, in order to re- 
ceive some letter or parcel which has been anticipated 
from Nantes. 

At one point, near one of the most beautiful of all 
these country residences, a small boat advanced along- 
side of us to receive on board a lady and a little child, 
who had apparently come over on a visit to the owner 
of the estate. The steamer remained long enough in 
sight of the spot to enable the recognition to be ob- 
served. A party of ladies and gentlemen had strolled 
down through the woods to the shady shore which was 
thick with trees to the very water's edge, in order to wel- 
come the expected guest. The enjoyment in store for 
a human being in such a paradise, and on a summer's 
morning of extraordinary beauty, was such as might 
have been envied by not a few. 

When rather more than half-way, the Erdre widens 
out into a lake-like sheet of water, a mile in width, the 
banks of which, however, are neither as wooded nor as 
beautiful as before, though they afterwards recover 



The Wedding March. 47 

much of their original character for the remainder of 
the way. As we approached our destination, the stream 
became so narrow, and its edges were so much choked, 
that one could not help feeling anxious for its future 
fate. At Nort, a few yards higher up than the wharf 
at which we stopped, the river was scarcely broader 
than the boat itself. 

Arrived at this destination, everything worth looking 
at has been seen ; for no one dreams of coming merely 
to examine this ugly little town. That morning, 
however, it was somewhat lively. On their way up the 
street might have been perceived two wedding pro- 
cessions, advancing from opposite directions towards 
the church. They came up in couples, each party 
being preceded by a fiddler, or rather, a man with a 
fiddle, who strummed and scraped as violently as he 
was able, but without pretending to play anything 
which might be called a tune. It was the usual wed- 
ding march, however, with which the inhabitants of 
Nort were familiar. The parties met, doubtless by 
previous arrangement, at the identical moment before 
the church door. One of the brides had attained her 
position clearly from other more solid gifts than either 
grace or beauty ; and withal, a more demure or melan- 
choly countenance it was impossible to imagine on a 
wedding-day. 

Within the church were three different parties wait- 
ing to be made happy by the officiating priest. The 
last of these wisely came up without any attendants 
whatever, or any indication of pomp or state. Neither 
the bride nor bridegroom was a stranger to matrimony ; 
and they were now again, at upwards of sixty, going 
in once more to try it for better or for worse. A short 
time after the ceremony was over, one or two of the 



48 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



merrymakers came up to salute the priest, who was 
standing near the door of the hotel. One of them 
caught hold of Monsieur le Cure in a very friendly and 
familiar manner, and the latter in gratitude held out 
his snuff-box to his friends. The pastor of Nort was 
bulky and good-humoured, but was neither prepossess- 
ing nor clean. 

Provisions at Nort must be cheap, judging from the 
breakfast which they gave us, and for which they charged 
not quite eighteenpence a head. The crawfish from 
Nantes, which had been sprawling on the deck of our little 
river steamer, proved destined for the adornment of this 
same table d'hote. The white wine which was included 
in the above charge, and of which we were at liberty to 
drink any quantity, as is the case with cider in the 
hotels of Normandy, here costs only fourpence a bottle. 
Of course it was not strong, but it was better than that 
at Nantes at a franc. A person who was at table told 
me he remembered it one year at a halfpenny the litre ; 
a litre containing something more than one of our 
ordinary-sized bottles of port. 

On our return home, we had on board quite a con- 
course of priests, who were going to Nantes to keep 
their Retreat. They were all reading their Breviaries ; 
or rather, with their hands half-way across the page, 
they appeared to be getting up something by heart. 
The town was in a great state of excitement, owing to 
the news of a suspension of hostilities, the two em- 
perors having met the previous day at Villafranca. A 
string of lamps was hung round the exterior of the 
theatre, and there was to be a general illumination on 
the following Sunday. A party of schoolboys, meeting 
two Austrian soldiers in the streets, went up playfully 
before them and took off their hats, at the same time 



During the Retreat. 



49 



calling out, " Bon jour, messieurs ! " But the Austrians 
did not understand the joke, and looked somewhat 
glum. 

Though the language has here died out, a few of the 
old Breton customs are yet observed. For instance, a 
wedding party traverses the streets in the evening, 
each guest bearing in his hand the present he has made 
to the newly-married pair. These amongst the lower 
classes are more useful than ornamental ; and the party 
I met were making discordant music with their pots 
and pans. 



PENDANT LA EETEAITE. 



In secret, the Lord doth a vow 

To heart-service require of me ; 
God, Thou art conqueror now, 

I am faithful for ever to Thee ! 

The compact unchanging is seal'd ; 

I sacrifice all at Thy shrine ; 
My heart to Thy keeping I yield ; 

Henceforward, Lord, it is Thine. 

This closer communion, a balm 

To the weary if ever, not then 
May flagging of frendship alarm, 

When false is the favour of men. 

Full oft though the spirit may fail, 
And languish and faint, it is meet, 

If as soon as His presence we hail, 

Should sorrow seem welcome and sweet. 

Too long I had slighted the call 

Of that Lord who would win me ; for where 
Is a bond so engaging withal, 

Or a tie so enticing and dear ? 
E 



CHAPTER IV. 



Cold Winter. — Across the Channel. — The River Ranee. — Dinan. — 
The Travelling Dentist. — His Invention. — Polite Literature. — 
Retrospect. — Environs of Dinan. — Cruelty to Animals. — An Un- 
sophisticated Town. 



HAT a long, cold, cheerless winter was that 
between '59 and '60 ! That pitiless season, as 
if jealous of the glories of July and August, 
had greedily encroached upon the autumnal months ; 
and October, vanquished, yielded sullenly to his sway. 
An unusually early frost of three days' duration first 
warned us of the struggle we were destined to undergo. 
The nights closing in with unwonted severity, prepared 
us at breakfast-time for the chilling vision of the ice- 
locked pools ; and, except that the last remaining leaves 
were lingering on the trees, and that the sun struggled 
out from the clouds at noon, we might very well have 
fancied ourselves in the Christmas week. 

It was without exaggeration the meeting of ex- 
tremes, for two months only intervened between the 
extraordinary reaction from tropic heat to well-nigh 
Arctic cold. 

Often during that time, to break on the monotony of 
a country curacy, rose up the memory of Clisson and its 
noble castle, and the brawling river in the beautiful 
Garenne, situated as they are on the frontier of the 
classic and almost sacred ground of the loyal La 
Vendee ; for it is at such moments as these that one 



A Tardy Spring. 



5i 



enjoys the recollection of the past, though looking for- 
ward also in anticipation to what is half mysterious, 
because yet unknown. 

In travelling, indeed, how much of the equivalent is 
reserved to the retrospect ! And how many of the 
inconveniences attendant upon locomotion, now shorn 
of their asperities, and softened down by time, make 
agreeable returns for lassitude and fatigue! 

Thus month after month wheeled round its heavy 
course, and then all were in expectation of approaching 
spring. May certainly did advance in its appointed 
time, but with tardy blossoms and half-blighted leaves, 
shorn all too entirely of traditionary prestige. Then 
June came on with laggard foot, cold, watery, and 
dull. 

But there was one consolation in all this. After an 
unexampled winter of eight months' duration, surely 
we have ground at least for expectation that, sooner or 
later, the amends must come, and that summer will 
usher in some brilliant weeks. It was a subject, as 
many may remember, about which even the newspapers 
began to grow anxious. Every one, at any rate, lived 
in hope — the hope of an improvement, which was slow 
to come. It would have been unwise, however, to have 
waited for the change ; so one must follow the advice 
. of the grand old poet, who warns us to grasp the pre- 
sent hour, and give ourselves no concern for that which 
shall succeed. 

The short and pleasant run across the Channel made 
it speedily evident that it was not England alone who 
had reason to bewail her leaden skies, though it was not 
difficult to forget the unassuring fact in the noise 
and clamour consequent on the change of scene. The 
tide was low, and we had a long distance to traverse in 



52 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



the heavy and dirty boats which the Malouins invari- 
ably supply. I was the first to leap on shore, or rather 
on the slippery rocks, for we had an almost equally 
long distance to scramble over sand and seaweed before 
we finally entered at the city wall. 

Wishing to save the boat for Dinan that afternoon, 
there is no lingering in the narrow streets of the 
venerable St. Malo, but a hurrying on to the Custom 
House, where we are fortunate to secure the ticket 
No. 1. They certainly took a provokingly long time 
in landing the baggage and bringing it up to the 
Quay, and during that period are paid two impatient 
visits to the captain of the little river steamer to inform 
him that there appear to be plenty of passengers going 
up to Dinan, and to solicit his good graces if they 
should be somewhat late. It was about four o'clock 
when we finally started, though it was not probable by 
that time that the luggage of all who had arrived by 
the same opportunity could have been likewise searched. 

As we steamed up the Ranee, it was impossible to 
avoid being impressed with the idea that oftentimes 
the characteristics of nature are reflected in the in- 
stincts of the inhabitants of a place. Thus, for instance, 
that, in a country possessing few attractions, the pea- 
sants pay very little attention to the adornment of their 
cottages, whilst in a beautiful district they endeavour 
in some measure to make their habitations correspond. 
The thought was called up by noticing an avenue of 
trees in front of more than one of the meaner houses by 
which we passed. 

But there is no need now to dwell upon the beau- 
ties of the Ranee, its hardy rocks and shady banks, or 
the picturesque chateaux of olden times, which here 
and there are towering proudly on its wooded heights. 



The Town of Dinan. 



53 



Its praises have been sung, and that by Englishmen, for 
now a quarter of a century at least. Its attractions, 
therefore, were none the less welcome as the renewal of 
an acquaintance of former years. 

The environs at any rate, if not the town of Dinan, 
ought not easily to weary the most fastidious taste, for 
not every city can boast of such varied scenery as this. 
The magnificent granite viaduct, with its lofty arches, 
which connects its neighbouring hills, would be justly 
the ornament of any place ; whilst the quaint old 
structures which still adorn its tortuous streets chime 
in agreeably with recollections of a mediaeval age. 

Ascending the steep and narrow Jerzual, however, 
with its rapid brook rushing down from the centre, the 
concession was involuntary that the dark and gloomy 
houses on either side of it were more pleasing to look 
at than agreeable quarters in which to live. 

But though some of the houses in its by-streets are 
gloomy, those on the Place are as cheerful as could be 
wished. It was in this same Place that on the market- 
day one morning, at Dinan, the passers-by were amused 
at a characteristic scene. Amongst the crowd of pic- 
turesquely-attired peasants who were swarming about 
on every side might have been observed a peculiar- 
looking individual with a sword and drum, who with 
this last instrument was attracting the attention of the 
idle and the curious, to inform them as a dentist of his 
unrivalled skill. It was entertaining, if not instruc- 
tive, to hear him ; and this was the substance of his 
speech : — 

" Now, ladies and gentlemen, I hope you won't be so 
silly, when you want your teeth extracted, as to submit 
yourselves to the mercy of a carpenter or a blacksmith, 
but that youTl have the good sense to come and consult 



54 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



me in their stead. I'm just going to show you what 
instruments I employ. Look, par example, at this pair 
of pincers, and then at this tooth, which I extracted 
with the very same from the mouth of a child. Look 
again at this. You have a particular name for it in your 
own country, but in mine we call it the cousin- german 
of the cat. Let any one now then whose teeth are 
troublesome just seat himself beside me in that chair/' 

No one, however, responding to the invitation, the 
doctor proceeded with a further account of his abilities, 
in an even more important line : — 

" Just look here, ladies and gentlemen, at this ap- 
paratus which I hold in my hand. It's an invention 
of my own for setting a broken jaw. It obtained a 
prize medal at the Great Exhibition in London in 1851, 
and I hope it will obtain one at Paris also. You're 
going to tell me, 'Now, Monsieur Langlois, that's a 
very simple machine ; ' and so it is, but" — and here the 
doctor put his finger to his forehead, and gave it a sig- 
nificant and gentle tap — " it requires genius to invent 
even such a trifling machine as this. Listen, and I'm 
going to tell you something about it. A few years ago 
there was a man employed in building a house. All of 
a sudden, with a frightful crash, there came down a 
heavy weight upon his head, which hit him in no less 
than three places, fracturing, moreover, his lower jaw. 
I was sent for to be consulted ; but what could I do ? 
I told him I could do literally nothing — that his jaw 
was irrevocably gone. However, I went home and 
began to think, and think, and think, and in a short 
time — just look at this — this simple little machine was 
the result of my thought ! I put it into his mouth, tied 
it up round his head — mind you, it didn't prevent his 
eating and drinking, for he never once took it out until, 



The Travelling Dentist. 

o 



55 



in two months' time, his jaw was completely reset, and 
lie could eat and drink without the use of the apparatus, 
positively as well as you or I. So now, ladies and 
gentlemen, you see" — and here the doctor pointed once 
more to his forehead, and tapped it significantly as 
before — -" you see what genius can be evoked from 
such a little source as this ; but it isn't every one in the 
world who has abilities of such superior stamp." 

To his renewed invitation that some one would sit 
down in the chair to have a tooth extracted, or a carious 
stump, no one seemed inclined to respond ; whereupon 
he proceeded to sound the praises of a wonderful 
ointment which he had made up into little packets, 
and which was efficacious in a multitude of com- 
plaints. The very sight, however, of the odious com- 
pound, one would have fancied, had sufficed. The doc- 
tor's eloquence certainly had been worthy of more encou- 
ragement than this ; for every now and then his powers 
of oratory had been great, and he had worked himself 
up into a pitch of fervour which might well have 
gained the confidence of the silent and serious crowd. 

As for one at least of his hearers, it must be con- 
fessed, he was so heartless and cruel as to be almost 
inwardly hoping that some one or other of the attentive 
audience would have forthwith resigned himself to the 
fatal chair. Whether it was owing, however, to a 
defectiveness in their courage, or to the soundness of 
their teeth, it is impossible to say. My inhumanity, at 
any rate, was punished by a denial of the wished-for 
sight ; for being anxious to explore some of the neigh- 
bouring country, and as the clouds overhead looked 
threatening, it seemed best to deny precedence to the 
uncertain opportunity, and to make haste to take ad- 
vantage of the day. 



56 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



On my return, the orator was still at his post, 
though the crowd around him had dispersed. Feeling 
curious to know whether he had met with any success, 
I went up and spoke to him, when he informed me 
that several operations had been performed. "Have 
you been long in Dinan?" I inquired. 

" I've been here already nearly four years," said he ; 
" but this is not a country I like. There isn't half enough 
business going on in my line. I have, however, travelled 
a great deal. I've been to London ; I've been in Scot- 
land ; I've been in Ireland ; and I've a good mind to 
go to England again. Oh, what a magnificent place 
that London is ! " 

" But Dinan is a pretty town," I insinuated; " just 
look at that beautiful public walk in front ; what shady 
trees ! " 

" Oui, oui, assez — but I like a place better where I 
can exercise my professional skill. Had I a fortune, 
and could be idle, I would then perhaps prefer a pretty 
place. But, talking of pretty places, have you been to 
Bordeaux ?" 

I told him I had not. 

" Ah, that's the town ! I've been to Nantes ; I've 
been to Caen ; I've been to plenty of towns ; but I've 
only seen one Bordeaux. Paris is a nice place ; but, 
after Paris, Bordeaux comes first." 

If physiognomy is a mirror in which genius is 
reflected, the doctor certainly was no ordinary man. 
His peaked chin and his pointed yellow beard were 
sufficient to induce any one to believe that that little 
chamber in his head to which he had alluded, contained 
materials from which much novelty might be communi- 
cated to the human race. His apparatus, being inge- 
nious, deserves to be described. 



The Dentist' } s Invention. 



57 



It was a piece of zinc moulded to the shape of the 
chin, with another piece above it to fit into the mouth ; 
the two portions being held together by screws, which 
could move at pleasure, so as to adapt the machine to 
the size of the jaw. It may have been a useful inven- 
tion, but it was one certainly not pleasant to look at ; 
nor did the doctor display a tempting appearance when 
he had it on, tied up to his head with strings. 

I made his acquaintance in this manner. Amongst 
the trades and occupations which were being exercised 
upon the Place, I had noticed two men sitting on the 
top of a table, under an enormous red cotton umbrella, 
almost large enough for a tent. These were entertain- 
ing the crowd with songs, a stock of which they had 
on hand for sale. A peasant woman from the neigh- 
bourhood had gone up to inspect the literature, and, 
after looking at it for some time, and turning over the 
leaves repeatedly, she wanted to have it for a sou. The 
price, however, was four times that sum ; and this 
attempt at unlawful bargaining had excited the in- 
dignation of the professor with the yellow beard, who 
was smarting, probably, with the recollection that so 
few of his audience had been converts to the utility of 
the fatal chair. 

" How I dislike those country-people ! " he petulantly 
exclaimed. " Yes, indeed, I hate them ; they'll stand 
higgling and bargaining with you for an hour ; but 
never, by any chance, can they be made to buy." 

I had myself taken up one of the above publications, 
and was glancing over the contents ; and so, fearing 
that I might incur the doctor's animadversion if I put' 
it down, I committed the extravagance of purchasing it 
then and there. The vocalist, however, had no silver 
to give me in change for my two-franc piece, and it was 



58 



The Pardo7i of Guingamp. 



the doctor who had obligingly volunteered to look for 
some in the crowd. 

The literary production which the higgling peasant 
wished to acquire for a sou was a humble volume of 
sixteen pages, entitled, " Le Troubadour Breton." I 
have selected out of it one of the most readable of its 
eleven songs, and of which I venture here to subjoin a 
somewhat free translation. It shall be entitled — 

SOUVENANCE. 

My bark is swift : on this broad zone, 

When night her sable veil extends, 
Oft musing o'er the past alone, 

This beating heart and hope are friends. 
Oh, near him still then true trust cling, 

Who whispers low when soft winds sound, 
Of that dear home sweet breezes sing, 

In which my lasting loves lie bound. 

Sing, breezes, sing ! the wild copse where 

I oft would cull the earliest flower ; 
The name my first warm thoughts would dare 

Repeat within the woodbine bower ; 
The vale which heard in life's young spring, 

And spread the mutual vows around ; 
Of that dear home sweet breezes bring, 

In which my lasting loves lie bound. 

Sing, breezes, sing ! if friendship still 

Its once fresh garland guard till now, 
Such due may memory well fulfil , 

Bear back the bond, recall the vow ; 
To years mature the lost age bring, 

When youth its guardian angel found ; 
Of that dear home sweet breezes sing, 

In which my lasting loves lie bound. 

After Paris comes Bordeaux, as the doctor remarked; 
and so, I would be inclined to say, after St. Malo comes 



Neighbourhood of Dinan. 



59 



Dinan — merely, of course, in Brittany — as far as re- 
gards the picturesque. Many people would, perhaps, 
place Dinan first ; and, for a place of residence, un- 
doubtedly it would secure the palm, though it would 
be very hard to say whether a Londoner would delight 
in either. It has yet many quaint and venerable streets, 
and antique houses with overhanging fronts, not a few 
of which are being, unfortunately, modernised. It 
also still preserves, at least here and there, its crumbling 
walls and massive entrance- gates ; and can boast, be- 
sides, of some shady and beautiful promenades. Then, 
again, you may follow the windings of its romantic 
river, which will never tire you, and you can pass along 
them to the sombre little village of Lehon, with its 
mouldering abbey ; or you can make a pilgrimage to 
the ruined chateau of La Graraye, to which the memory 
of goodness and heroism is attached ; or you can walk 
a mile to the health-giving springs of mineral virtue 
under an avenue of spreading limes ; and when you get 
there, you will be shut in, moreover, by hill, wood, and 
water — a very paradise of rural charms. 

Dinan can likewise boast of a few architectural, but 
now ruinous remains ; and what French town, un- 
happily, cannot? To begin with, there is its old 
Monastery of Cordeliers, now converted into a seminary 
for priests ; then it has again a somewhat imposing 
church, which is being gradually restored ; gradually, 
it may be said, because they measure the period of its 
complete restoration by fractions of a century ; not be- 
cause the building is so unusually great, but because 
the funds are so low. And many other curiosities also 
you may doubtless fall upon, if only you have the in- 
clination to search them out. 

If a stranger happens to pass through the Place 



60 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

St. Sauveur, a little by-square, on a certain market-day, 
lie will see the area crowded with hundreds of unhappy 
calves, in every degree of wretchedness, tied fore and 
aft, and prostrate on the uneven stones, exposed to the 
ungentle kicks of every passer-by. When one of these 
miserable animals is bought, it is strung uncere- 
moniously over the shoulders of the purchaser, by way 
of convenience, just as a gigantic ring-shaped loaf may 
be slung upon the other, and where it droops its patient 
head in unmurmuring despair. A bunch of them left 
the square in this manner, equipoised on a donkey's 
back, as if they had been so much dead weight. Close 
by this exhibition of humanity was a butcher, chasing 
a refractory sheep, and who, when he had caught it, 
was enjoying his revenge by twisting the extremity of 
its tail, and endeavouring to snap the tendons at the 
root. It may be gathered from the observation that 
no Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals 
has as yet been established in this pretty little town. 

As for the rest, Dinan is still a quiet, unsophisticated 
place, where, in the absence of hackney coaches, ladies 
yet may be perceived on foot, wending their way to 
evening parties at big houses at nine o'clock in white 
muslin dresses, with cavaliers or guardians dangling at 
their side, and followed by attendant bonnes. 



CHAPTER V. 




Leave Dinan. — An Intending Passenger. — A Custom of the Last 
Century. — The Mariner's Hymn, — St. Brieuc. — Cupboard Beds.— - 
The Last of the Diligences. — Ancient Observance. 

j|HE diligence for St. Brieuc left Dinan about 
one o'clock. A short distance from the town 
we oyer to ok a peasant, who, when the driver 
alighted to walk up a hill, begged for a seat. On 
returning to his place, the conductor asked the latter 
for how much he had agreed. " He's going to give 
four sous/' was the reply. " Four sous!" exclaimed 
the conductor in astonishment ; "he would rather 
walk ; by all means let him do so : those Bretons are 
literally the stingiest people in the whole world ; 
they're always poor when it suits them, and yet in 
reality they're immensely rich." 

I asked what was the distance he wished to go. 
"Four leagues," replied the conductor; "just one 
sou for a league ! " 

As far as regarded the diligence company, it would 
not certainly have been a profitable bargain, and so 
the official, who possibly felt the offer to be a personal 
affront, held out stoutly for the interest of his employers, 
and persisted in his demand for a franc, which, as the 
peasant was either unwilling or unable to advance, he 
was obliged to trudge out his dozen miles on foot. 



62 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



The country through which we are now passing is 
not nearly so beautiful as that around Dinan, but still 
it is far from uninteresting, and is well wooded in many 
parts. The little town of Lamballe, on our way, has a 
handsome church, strikingly situated on a rock which 
overlooks the road. You will probably be wishing to 
inspect it whilst changing horses, but the conductor 
assures you there is not sufficient time. Otherwise 
there does not seem to be much of interest in the 
town. 

The country beyond this, though well cultivated 
where the land is good, looks as if it were thinly 
inhabited, so that you cannot help wondering where 
all the people come from who work in the fields. You 
may pass miles without seeing a cottage or a hut. 
Whole acres of broom in full blossom are likewise, to 
an Englishman, a somewhat unusual sight. The 
chateaux on the roadside are not numerous. The 
attempt to extract some information out of our con- 
ductor, with respect to the residences of the old and 
now decayed feudal families, was entirely useless, for 
he was by no means loquacious, nor indeed did he seem 
to be very well informed. I ought, however, to have 
remembered, by his vulgarly using the word "Breton " 
as a term of reproach towards the pedestrian peasant, 
that he was not a native of these parts. As to politics, 
they appear to be everywhere either an uninteresting 
or forbidden theme. In the hotels one hears nothing 
at all on the subject. You imagine at first that the 
people are afraid of spies, but come afterwards to the 
conclusion — this refers, of course, only to the middle 
and lower classes — that they are indifferent to the 
topic. But the Bretons are in general a heavy and 
lethargic race. 



An Old Religious Custom. 



63 



Before we pass entirely beyond the precincts of the 
country which is associated with the recollection of 
Chateaubriand and his family, let us take a backward 
glance of a century, more or less, and recall a custom 
which throws light on the religious feeling of that age. 
A few miles off the high-road between Dinan and 
Lamballe is situated the village of Plancoet ; and here, 
where his grandmother, who had extensive possessions, 
resided, the statesman and writer of after years was 
put out to nurse. The woman under whose charge 
he was, placed him under the guardianship of the 
patroness of the village, " Our Lady of Nazareth/' 
and made a vow, in her honour, to clothe him per- 
petually in blue and white until he had reached the age 
of seven years. Thus dedicated to the Virgin, he knew 
and loved his protectress, whom he confounded with 
his guardian angel; and her image, which had cost 
the pious woman half a farthing, was fastened 
with four pins to his couch above his head while he 
slept. When three years old he returned to St. Malo, 
where he remained until the time came to be taken 
back to Plancoet, to be released from the peasant's 
vow. 

On the day of the Ascension, in 1775, accompanied by 
his family, he proceeded to the church dedicated to the 
Virgin of Nazareth, clothed from head to foot in gar- 
ments typical of innocence, even to his shoes and hat. 
The altar was lighted up with tapers, and lamps hung 
suspended from the vaulted roof. Received at the 
door by mace-bearers, the child was by them conducted 
into the choir, where monks were ranged in stalls, and 
led to a seat between his foster-brother and his nurse. 
A solemn mass then commenced, and this being con- 
cluded, young Chateaubriand changed his white robes 



6 4 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



for a dress of violet, whilst the former, suspended as an 
ex voto beneath the effigy of the Virgin, were left in the 
church. The Prior then, after a homily on the nature 
of vows, reminded him of those of his name who had 
preceded him, going through the whole history of the 
Chateaubriand family, and touching especially on the 
story of his ancestor the Baron, who had accompanied 
St. Louis to the Holy Land. 

On the occasions of religious fetes at St. Malo, the 
young child used to be taken to visit the different 
sanctuaries of the city, the Chapel of St. Aaron, the 
Convent de la Victoire ; and here his impressible mind 
was soothed with the sweet plaintive voices of females 
who sang unseen. In the gloomy old cathedral at 
Christmas-time, when crowds came in to pray, when 
weather-beaten seamen on their knees returned thanks 
for the mercy of their lives, and light flashed out from 
innumerable tapers, as the chorus of the Tantum ergo 
ascended to the skies, and when during the solemn 
pauses in the service the cold wintry wind rushed 
violently against the windows, he was fairly overcome 
by the solemnity of the scene. He had no need then, 
he says, to be told by his nurse to fold his hands and 
call upon God by all the names which he had been 
taught : he saw in faith the heavens opened, and angels 
ascending with the vows and prayers of those earnest 
souls. His mother said to him, as the holy Monica 
said to her son, " Nihil longe est a Deo " (Nothing is 
far from God) . Fain would he have lived in those days 
when they were wont to say to the Virgin, " Doulce 
Dame du ciel et de la terre, mere de pitie, fontaine de 
tous biens, qui portastes Jesus Christ en vos pretieulx 
flancz, belle tres doulce Dame, je vous mercye et vous 
prye." 



Approach to St. Brieuc. 



65 



One of tlie earliest lessons he was taught to learn 
was a mariner's hymn, which thus commenced :- — 

" Je mets ma confiance, 
Yierge, en yotre secours ; 
Servez moi de defense, 
Prenez soin de mes jours ; 
Et quand ma derniere heure 
Viendra finir mon sort, 
Obtenez que je meure 
De la plus sainte mort." 

Hear, in whose mercy 

My hope is, and trust ! 
Be the stay of my days, 

And when low in the dust, 
I fallen lie prostrate, 

For me intercede ; 
'Mid danger and darkness, 

My weary feet lead ; 
That so in the moment 

I struggle and faint, 
'Twere ordained that I die 

The glad death of a saint. 

The appearance of St. Brieuc in the distance is not 
imposing. It stands indeed on a hill ; but approaching 
it gradually, it seems quite to lose this characteristic, 
and has none of the remarkable features of the gene- 
rality of towns so situated. Some very modern and 
commonplace-looking buildings likewise glare un- 
pleasantly on the sight. It overlooks a bay, the ex- 
tremities of which are sufficiently bold and rocky, 
though the centre is monotonous, and flat, and sandy. 
The town, however, is at least a mile from the sea. 

As to the interior of St. Brieuc, it is rather pleasing. 
It could have shown in the last century the usual 
labyrinth of narrow, intricate streets found in all the 
average continental cities ; but many of these have 

F 



66 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



been in modern times pulled down, and more spacious 
ones erected, and it is on the whole a somewhat agree- 
able little place. It has one fine walk of shady trees, 
besides other smaller ones. It can boast, however, of 
no grand churches, and its public edifices are not re- 
markable. The cathedral is a building without any 
interest, old and dilapidated ; but the notes of its organ, 
which peal forth at vespers, are exquisitely sweet, and 
the instrument, though very old, is still one of the 
best in Brittany. 

The port of St. Brieuc is about a mile from the 
town. On the hill above it stands the old ruined tower 
of Cesson ; a few yards in front of which, as if in fierce 
vengeance on mediae valism, a fantastic modern country- 
seat has been run up. Half an hour's walk from this 
leads to the Colony, or Refuge, of St. Hillion, on a 
beautiful site commanding the entire bay. Here, in 
extensive and well-planted grounds, comfortable monks 
stroll about in contemplation, and bask at leisure in the 
mid- day sun. 

We are not yet at St. Brieuc, in the Celtic- speaking 
district, though the country-people in the neighbour- 
hood are quite of the Breton type. If they have lost 
their language, they have necessarily lost their songs ; 
but if they have kept nothing else, they have conserved 
the dark, portable cupboards into which their ancestors 
used at night in olden times to creep, and which, when 
the dog- star is in the ascendant, command very nearly 
the requisite heat to deprive their occupants of the little 
vitality which day may have left in their palpitating 
frames. It is difficult from these beds to dislodge 
minute intruders ; nor, when their occupants are sick, 
are these gloomy prisons the very best localities to 
restore to them their health and strength. 



Pomp of the Ancient Bishops. 



67 



The daily incident which seemed to attract the most 
attention at St. Brieuc was the arrival of the diligence 
from Brest. The hour for table d'hote was six o'clock ; 
but, for the convenience of travellers by that conveyance, 
another took place at eight ; and they were generally 
both very well attended, and capitally served. At 
about half-past eight there was usually a great commo- 
tion, and every one used to get up from his seat and 
make towards the front door. A crowd of men, women, 
and boys might there have been seen round a huge 
new diligence, the very largest of its kind, with coupe, 
interieur, and rotonde, and of course a banquette, and 
drawn by four stout horses. It really, in these days of 
railroads, was quite a welcome sight, the passengers 
looked all so comfortable ; and then, with a crack of 
the whip and a shout from the driver, the ostler would 
let go the leader's head, and the huge machine would 
be set in motion, and away it would rattle over the 
stony street. In a year or two, however, the railway 
to Brest will be completed, and then adieu for ever to 
the good old times. 

One sees nothing now, in this nineteenth century, in 
the quiet and somewhat sombre streets of St. Brieuc, 
of the pomp and state which once accompanied its 
almost regal bishops on their entry into the town. At 
one period its prelates were invariably chosen from the 
younger branches of the great families of De Rohan, 
D'Avaugourd, and De Malestroit ; for the temporal 
lordship of the town and neighbourhood had been ac- 
corded to the see by a member of the powerful house of 
Penthievre ; and those who filled it took rank with the 
barons and peers. The entry of a bishop is thus de- 
scribed in the " Annales Briochines : " — 

" The Lord of Boisboixel went to receive him at the 



68 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



gate of the town ; there they presented to the prelate a 
charger richly caparisoned. The seigneur, in his 
capacity of feudal squire, held the stirrup whilst the 
bishop mounted on the steed. He then conducted him 
by the bridle to the episcopal palace, and when the pre- 
late descended, he pretended that the steed ought to 
belong to himself. In the ceremonial feast which 
followed this entry, the gentleman who had the title of 
feudal steward brought him water with which to wash 
himself before he sat down. He poured him drink 
during the repast ; and pretended for this service to 
claim the basin, the towel, the gold or silver cup in 
which the prelate had drunk, and whatever of the re- 
mains he chose to eat out of the great dish. The rest 
he was to give to the farrier- general. This last, 
after having eaten as much as he wished, went to the 
prisons of the bishop, to invite the prisoners to make 
good cheer with what remained. The farrier- general 
was obliged to shoe the steed, as well as the bishop's 
prisoners, and had a right to demand in payment one 
parisis. The steward was also obliged (and this obliga- 
tion continued till the eighteenth century) to furnish 
hautboys, bagpipes, and violins, together with a ham, on 
Shrove Tuesday in every year on the Place du Martray, 
at St. Brieuc ; and all the innkeepers of this town are 
obliged to bring to the table some ham, a jar of wine, 
or any other drink which they sell." 

With almost the power of temporal sovereigns, the 
Bishops of St. Brieuc had likewise the right of enjoying 
the revenues of all vacant sees ; and amongst other 
respects which were paid to them the following is not 
the least remarkable : — At the hour of vespers on St. 
John's day, one of the proprietors of the street called 
L'Alle-J^enault was bound to come forth from his house 



Population of St. Brieuc. 



6 9 



with a staff in his hand, and to repeat three times, 
" Renouessenelles (frogs), taisez vous ; Monsieur dort ; 
laissez dormir Monsieur." 

The population of St. Brieuc at the present day is 
between fifteen and sixteen thousand. As was above 
remarked, as far as the language is concerned, both the 
town and neighbourhood are completely French. 



CHAPTER VI. 



Chatelaudren. — Its Submergence. — Decline of the Breton Language. — 
Guingamp. — Preparations for the Pardon. — Chateau de Kerano. — 
Karnahat. — Excursions to Plouha. — The Passing Bell. 

HE diligence between St. Brieuc and Ghiin- 
gamp was a close and wretched little vehicle 
■ with two compartments, calculated to hold 
only six between them. The middle seat of the in- 
terior could be lifted up and down, and was in front of 
the door. At Chatelaudren, a small town of fourteen 
hundred inhabitants, about half-way, we took up an old 
woman, who had to perform the operation of climbing 
over the seat, a somewhat inconvenient necessity, as 
her dimensions were none of the lightest. A number of 
beggars here crowded round us. One unhappy woman 
had a frightful nose, five or six times the ordinary size, 
like a huge handle, all covered with plaster and bits of 
rag, and presenting a most shocking sight. The men- 
dicants in Brittany are indeed painful objects. 

This little town was founded by a sovereign of the 
name of Audren, who here pitched a camp which was 
thus called after his name, Castellum Audroeni. He 
intercepted the valley of Leff (which signifies " river of 
tears ") by a powerful dike, which thereby enclosed an 
enormous pond. 

M. Souvestre relates an incident which occurred here 
in 1773 — not a century ago. 




A Town Submerged. 



71 



" "Whilst you are travelling in the Breton diligence, 
open the door at the second stage after St. Brieuc, and 
cast your glance around. The time shall be night. 
You will find yourself in the midst of a species of long- 
avenue bordered by large houses of a sombre cast ; all 
the windows will be closed by great shutters ; not a 
light, not the murmur of a voice ! On looking at the 
thresholds, you will see that they are overgrown with 
grass ; no footstep echoes in its abandoned streets. 

" But behind you, at the end of the Place, there will 
be a large church, all lighted up ; you will feel the air, 
fresh and damp, striking in your face ; and above you, 
you will hear a dull noise mingling with the murmur 
of a falling stream. This dead town is Chatelaudren ; 
this strange murmur is the noise of a pond which over- 
looks it, and threatens it unceasingly. It is like 
Naples beneath its volcano, whose pillow is death. 

"It is now sixty years since (it was the 13th of 
August, 1773, a doubly fatal year !) the largest house 
in the town was brilliantly lighted up ; the sound of 
musical instruments, joined to peals of merry laughter, 
was issuing anon from the half- open windows : it was 
a ball. At the front door of the house, a young girl, 
in a robe of muslin, and with shoes of rose-coloured 
satin, had her two hands placed within those of a young 
man, round whose arm was twisted the bridle of a horse, 
and who, in travelling attire, was about to mount. 
Both of them had for several hours been lamenting 
over this separation just at the very moment of the 
fete : but the order of the engineer-in-chief was ex- 
plicit, and the way was long by the difficult by-roads 
of St. Cled. It was impossible, therefore, to delay. 

"When he had embraced his affianced bride, the 
young man mounted his horse and disappeared at full 



72 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



gallop, as if, by the action of this violent riding, he 
"was endeavouring to allay his wrath. He was at that 
time seventeen years of age, and on that very evening 
he was to have danced a minuet with the young girl in 
the rose-coloured satin shoes. 

" On gaining the hill which overlooks the town, he 
stopped his horse and turned his ear backward, hoping 
to catch some of the strains of the music at the ball ; 
but nothing could he hear save the rushing of the pond, 
whose fall of water was now increased by the overflow 
of the river of tears. Sighing, he resumed his course. 
Speedily the storm began to rage and roar. The 
lightning and the thunder clashed in upon the dark- 
ness ; the rain poured down in torrents ; the earth 
trembled. 

" The traveller was then three leagues from Chatelau- 
dren, and yet he thought he heard in that direction 
a deep and indescribable sound. At that moment he 
was comparing his situation with that of the guests who 
were enjoying themselves at the ball, and he was envious 
accordingly of their lot. 

4 4 But death had smitten down those late joyous 
guests ; for the pond had burst, and the town was 
submerged. 

" The young man, warned of the calamity on the 
following day, flew back at the utmost of his horse's 
speed. On his arrival he saw nothing more of Chatelau- 
dren than the chimneys of the housetops ; there were 
three feet of water above the market-halls. In vain he 
essayed to penetrate to the Place ; the entire valley 
was a mighty torrent, whose current bore away pro- 
miscuously the broken roofs, the cradles of infants, and 
the corpses of women still adorned. It was only on the 
second day that he could reach the habitation of the 



Decline of the Breton Language. 73 

young girl. He found her drowned, with her partner's 
hand in hers. A rose, which he had presented her for 
the ball, was still entire at her waist. 

" That young man was my father, at that time con- 
ductor of the public works in the service of the States 
of Brittany. Since that fatal day the town has re- 
mained mute and death-like as a tortoise in its shell. 
A lamp burns all the night within fche church in honour 
of the dead. They who are acquainted with this history 
are forced to recall it to their minds each time they 
pass between those silent and sombre houses, before 
the large rose- window of the illuminated choir, and be- 
neath the roaring pond. All here bears traces of the 
terrible disaster ; the town has kept its mourning 
until now/' 

With the old woman who had mounted into her seat 
in the aforesaid primitive manner I kept up an 
animated conversation. She told me that Ohatelaudren 
was at the present time the first place in which the 
Breton language began to be understood. Every one 
there, however, was able to speak French ; in fact, it 
was the dominant tongue. She herself had been born 
as it were to Breton, which at that time was univer- 
sally spoken in her native place ; but she was now 
much less at home with it than with the other. The 
tide, it was evident, is gradually advancing all along 
the country, and it will be surging on to Guingamp, 
its present stronghold and its frontier fortress, at no 
very distant day. Plouagat, a village through which 
we soon afterwards passed, was as yet, she said, tho- 
roughly Breton. 

I made inquiry about the ancient tragedies. She 
told me she had not seen one acted for thirty years. 
When she was a child they were still very common ; 



74 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



but in this direction, at any rate, they are now nowhere 
to be found. 

The diligence was about three hours in reaching 
Gruingamp. It was not altogether unnatural, perhaps, 
to picture to one's mind, in the isolated towns of Brit- 
tany, a curious conglomeration of narrow, Constantino- 
politan- looking streets, with tall, dark, sombre houses ; 
wonderful and intricate old labyrinths, the relics of a 
middle age. Guingamp, however, is not after this 
sort ; though, notwithstanding, it is a somewhat quaint 
and original little place. 

There is only one hotel of any pretensions in the 
town. In this, with some difficulty, I managed to 
obtain the last available quarters ; for the house was 
already full, in anticipation of the great Pardon which 
was to be held in five days' time ; and the only condi- 
tions under which this room, being a very large one, 
was obtainable, were those of my consenting to ex- 
change it for a less spacious one on the night of the 
ceremony, in order that several other beds might be 
made up. In private houses, as I was subsequently 
told, almost every spare chamber had been long since 
either let or promised, and the rates were high ; in 
fact, some could not be hired unless taken by the 
month. 

Already, the day of my arrival, preparations were 
perceptible in the town. Booths were being erected for 
the fair on the central Place, and decorations were 
being lavished on the beautiful church. 

Reserving at present an account of this noble 
building, it will not be inappropriate to give a short 
description of the town. It consists then chiefly of one 
main extending thoroughfare, which expands towards 
the centre, after being a street of considerable length, 



Description of Guingamp. 75 



into a spacious triangular Place, adorned with trees, 
and from each end of the base of which two streets 
once more emerge. 

Guingamp (which would not, perhaps, be readily 
identified under its Anglicised and less romantic name 
of Gingham) was formerly enclosed with walls, sub- 
stantial traces of which still remain. Its population at 
the present day is rather more than seven thousand, 
It is, singular to relate, as far as the language is con- 
cerned, thoroughly Breton. That tongue, in fact, is still 
almost exclusively employed ; nor in any other town in 
Brittany will you hear it so universally spoken. It 
may be said, therefore, on this account, to be unique ; 
not even Wales itself can any longer boast of a purely 
Celtic-speaking town. 

The view obtainable from the back of the hotel, on 
a bright sunny day, was certainly most lovely. The 
wall bounding the garden rises up straight from the 
river, which just there is deep and rapid. Oppo- 
site to this was another small terraced garden ; and 
beyond it a row of sheds, under which women in 
quaint caps were washing clothes. A fall of water of 
about four feet did not detract from the interest of the 
scene ; whilst above, in the background, stood out 
proudly the steeple and towers of the old parish church. 

There are still several interesting chateaux in the 
neighbourhood of the town. Through the stately and 
shady walks of one of these you can pass on to that 
of Kerano, about a mile beyond, a place in which 
J ames II. of England had once lived. Walking down an 
ancient avenue, you come to an enclosed orchard, which 
has evidently in the days of its prosperity been an 
extensive garden ; and then to a ruined stone balustrade 
on the other side of a moat. Everything shows plainly 



76 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



that it has once been an important house. On one 
side of the mansion are the remains of a tempting 
garden in the old French style, now almost choked 
with weeds, and some venerable orange trees in wooden 
boxes, which probably are two hundred years old at 
least. The chateau itself is now quite a ruin, one half 
of it having been entirely pulled down. What remains 
is tenanted by a farmer and his labourers ; and fowls 
and pigs are running riot along the rickety floors. 

There is likewise another interesting old noble resi- 
dence, though quite in a different direction, about a 
mile and a half outside the town. It is that of 
Karnabat (let us mark the name, it is Oriental), once 
the property of the D'Acignes, and is well situated on 
a hill, in the midst of woods. 

Leaving its long arcade of now roofless stone arches, 
which was once the orangery, and the trees from which, 
in their wooden tubs, are scattered about the grounds, 
after looking at the chapel and the portraits of the 
D'Acignes, you pass through a long beech avenue to 
the village church of Plouisy, where is an ossuary full 
of skulls and bones, as also small boxes on the walls 
containing individual relics, with glass fronts to dis- 
tinguish a few of them. These are not uncommon in 
many parts of Brittany. 

Whilst waiting for the Pardon we can make a some- 
what longer excursion than to either of the above- 
named chateaux, and shall penetrate to the sea-coast 
beyond Plouha, between which village and Guingamp 
there is a distance of somewhat more than fifteen miles. 
We shall set out on foot, with the few things required 
packed up into a fishing-basket, which may be slung 
over the shoulders. The day is fine, though cloudy, 
and therefore not too hot. After walking a few miles 



Bound for Lanvollon, 



77 



I am overtaken by a man in a long cart about thirty 
inches in breadth (made for passing through very narrow 
lanes), who inquires whether I am bound for Lanvollon, 
and on my replying in the affirmative, asks me whether 
I will not take a seat. I mount, but soon find, some- 
what to my dismay, that the vehicle does not move on 
springs ; in fact, the jolting is terrific — vires acquirit 
eundo — and the only wonder is that we do not all come 
to pieces together. The way in which he rattles down 
the steep hills is ludicrous in its boldness. On arriving 
at a small village, where there is a public-house, he 
asks whether I would not wish to alight and drink a 
chopine ; but as I fancy there are probably other hills to 
gallop down, and as I am hoping rather to reach our 
journey's end without any broken bones, I tell him I 
will give him a chopine on our arrival at Lanvollon 
out of my own flask. He makes the proposition, how- 
ever, as much for my sake as his own, and it is the 
custom of the country ; for when we reach his des- 
tination he is not only unwilling at first to drink the 
chopine, but also hesitates some time before he can 
be induced to accept the gratuity of half a franc which 
I offer him. 

In fact, one cannot help noticing, as a rule, that, 
whatever their other defects, the country-people in 
Brittany have the greatest notion of the laws of polite- 
ness, and when they tender their hospitality, mean 
really and truly what they say. 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



THE PASSING BELL. 
— + 

The passing bell doth toll : 

A spirit soars abroad : 
Pray for this wandering soul, 

Ye who have power with God. 

Oh, it's a lonesome night 
Eor one so far to range, 

Though for a happy night, 
Or for a good exchange. 

Wouldst thou his burden share ? 

He needeth some such stay, 
If but one little prayer, 

To speed him on his way. 



CHAPTER VII. 



Lanvollon. — Plouha. — Portmogere. — Monsieur le Cure\ — His Hand- 
maid. — Description of Kermaria. — The Village Inn. — The Cure's 
Manuscript. — Church of Kermaria. — The Black Mountains, — The 
Breton Language. — The Bay of the Dead. 

HE lions of Lanvollon were soon seen, for little 
more sufficed than to walk through the main 
street and peep into the church, which my late 
friend of the ehopine had recommended as one of them, 
being in his opinion very beautiful, for it was quite new. 
The lift in his vehicle obviated the necessity of remaining 
in the little town that night, and an acquisition of strength 
urges on to Plouha, a distance of between four and five 
miles. The country had been hitherto very fertile, with 
pleasing undulations, though the inhabitants were poor, 
few of the houses having glass in the windows, but iron 
bars, which gave them the appearance of cells. It now 
looked considerably wilder, and it was very easy to per- 
ceive that the coast was not far off. 

One peculiarity was noticeable in these parts : some 
of the old women had straw bonnets of a most primitive 
description over their caps, which gave them anything 
but a prepossessing air. One old crone returned my 
salutation with a " Bon soir et bonne sante." 

No one can travel in Brittany without noticing in 
every direction the extraordinary number of crosses and 
calvaires. Many of them, in granite, have once been 
handsome, but they are almost invariably in a ruinous 



8o The Pardon of Guingamp. 

state. Here and there the stump of the figure had 
been picked up from the debris, and raised upon a heap 
of stones. The sculptor's notion of beauty was generally 
embodied in a hideous little object, absurdly dispro- 
portionate to the size of the cross. In some of them, 
likewise, the two thieves had, in a similar manner, been 
cut out. 

Just outside Plouha I sat down on the trunk of a 
tree to rest. Whilst thus seated, a little boy, bearing 
in his hand a load of ponderous hammers, chanced to 
pass by. I stopped him to ask whether there was any- 
thing worth looking at in the neighbourhood. He was 
full of talk, and was a minute specimen of extraordinary 
intelligence and precocity, though only fourteen; in 
fact, he appeared to enter into the subject at once. Oh 
yes, he replied ; there was the Chapel of Kermaria, about 
a league from Plouha, which many gentlemen from 
Paris had come down to inspect. It was a very ancient 
building, and he had been told that a subterranean 
passage (the old story) had been discovered between 
the two places, though now partially filled up. 

Making allowances for the source of his information, 
it was sufficient at least to rouse one's curiosity ; and if 
the building was attractive enough to entice gentle- 
men from Paris, it certainly was worth walking a mile 
or two to see. Tendering a couple of halfpence to my 
informant, which he hesitated at first to take, I got up 
and went into Plouha. 

Two miles or more from this place lies Portmogere, 
the haven of Plouha. (Let us again observe the name : 
it is pronounced Moyere ; there is a Mogheyer in Syria : 
are the words identical?) The walk to the sea well 
repaid the exertion. 

The view of the surrounding bays is magnificent, far 



The Cure of Plouha. 



81 



finer than that of St. Brieuc, for the rocks are bold and 
romantic. The tide here comes in with great force ; 
but after a somewhat lengthened walk, a plunge was 
irresistible. After dining at the Hotel des Voyageurs 
at Plouha — an hotel by courtesy, but apparently the 
first in the village — on the best which the house could 
offer, though meat was not obtainable, I set out for the 
residence of the cure, being anxious to ascertain whether 
the Chapel of Kermaria was really worth going to see. 

A small avenue led up to his residence, at the front 
door of which were standing three women. She in the 
centre appeared to be the housekeeper, and so I asked 
her whether Monsieur le Cure was within. She replied 
in the affirmative, and went to call him. In another 
moment the alarm was given, for the two women on 
either side of the door made a sudden rush down the 
steps, each in her respective direction ; and then out of 
the room, somewhat to my consternation, issued no less 
than five priests. Monsieur le Cure was the last, and 
politely invited me to come in, all the rest at the same 
time wishing him good-bye. I apologised for the in- 
trusion, and explained that I was a stranger, and was 
anxious to know what the Chapel of Kermaria really 
was ; but before giving me any answer, he blandly 
insinuated that I should keep on my hat : " Couvrez- 
vous, couvrez-vous," said he ; and as I hesitated, he 
took it up and put it on my head. 

I told him I was rather fond of exploring ancient 
buildings, and was trying to find out what was to be 
seen, whereupon he shook my hand, and told me he 
would explain all he could. He then informed me that 
he had a manuscript on the subject, which he would 
lend me to take back to the hotel and read; and the 
next moment he went up- stairs to find it. 

G 



82 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



Whilst lie was absent I cast my eye round his apart- 
ment, which was plainly, if not scantily furnished, and 
with no signs of luxury whatever ; in fact, with the 
absence, as usual in French houses during the summer 
months, of any carpet on the floor, it appeared almost 
an uncomfortable room. 

Monsieur le Cure had evidently been entertaining 
his guests at what in Brittany is called the supper, or 
evening meal, for the table was covered with wine 
bottles and coffee cups, and the remains of fruit. 
" You will perceive," said he, on his return, as he 
handed me the manuscript, " that it is somewhat highly 
coloured, and so you will accordingly make allowance 
for the fact." 

The old housekeeper here knocked at the door, and 
timidly put in her head. " Entrez, Lavigne," said the 
cure assuringly ; but in the presence of a stranger the 
handmaid was slow. "Fais votre service toujours," 
replied he blandly ; whereupon Lavigne took courage, 
and came in to clear away the debris of the evening 
meal. 

The cure and the "bonne" seemed perfectly adapted 
to one another. He himself was a middle-aged man, 
of benevolent though ordinary appearance, and nothing 
could exceed the politeness with which he gave me the 
information I required. " If, after you have read the 
manuscript," he said, "you should think the place 
worthy of a visit, I will accompany you myself to- 
morrow morning about ten o'clock. Possibly I may be 
able to drive you over, but if not, at any rate I shall 
take the walk." I assured him I did not wish to give 
him the trouble, but he insisted that he would come. 
"You see," he continued, "I shall be occupied with 
my workmen from about nine till ten, for I am building 



The Village Lin. 83 

a new church ; after that, however, I will conduct you 
to the spot." 

" Oh yes," I answered, " I perceived you were build- 
ing a new church, and a very handsome one it will be." 

This pleased him exceedingly, and he thereupon 
went up-stairs once more to look for the plans, which 
in a few minutes he brought down. He then went on 
to give me some account of the Chapel of Kermaria, 
and showed me a piece of finely-executed sculpture 
which had been brought away from it. It represented 
the crowning of the Virgin by two angels. . One subject 
led on to another, and in reference to antiquities he 
mentioned a book, now out of print, by the Abbe Manet, 
which he thought would be interesting. I might skim 
through it at the inn, and return it to him again to- 
morrow morning. Accordingly Lavigne was sent up for 
the work, which was in two volumes, and I bore it off, 
though I had read it many years before. It was chiefly 
on Brittany, and contained a good deal of information 
about the country and its inhabitants. Conversing 
thus on these subjects, I remained there about half an 
hour, and when I took my departure it was arranged 
that we should set out for Kermaria about half-past 
nine or ten. 

The accommodation at the inn, nevertheless, was not 
sufficiently enticing to induce a traveller to remain 
up any length of time poring over the cure's books. 
The house was anything but clean. The premises 
below consisted merely of a kitchen, into which one 
entered from the street, and then a bare side-chamber 
for the guests. The former contained the usual 
furniture of a Breton apartment, including the dark 
cupboard-like beds, with sliding doors in front of 
them, and an enormous barrel of cider, in which the 



8 4 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



hostess might have drowned herself, had she felt so 
inclined. The poor woman's hands, which were filthy 
the previous evening, had not apparently on the 
following morning made acquaintance with soap and 
water, and yet she handled the eatables as uncere- 
moniously as if their hue had been of the most delicate 
white. It must be confessed, therefore, that there 
would have been here no inducement to become a 
glutton, or to linger unduly over the uncertain meals. 
Had it not been for this great drawback, the fare 
would have been well enough, for fowls here are 
prolific, and the sea is not far off. 

" Sale comme un Breton," is a proverb in France ; 
and happy they who can steel themselves against the 
whisperings of the unassuring fact. But oh ! the 
enviable faith of a world — a world which would lose 
its appetite at the barest mention of a dirty table- 
cloth — its enviable faith in that one great necessary 
of daily life, which, of all others, demands the clean- 
liness of unceasing care. How the horrors of its manu- 
facture in towns and cities are universally ignored ! 
Are there no enlightened apostles who will go forth 
through the length and breadth of the land, and preach 
the wholesome doctrines of machine-made bread ? 

Had one been going to Kermaria alone, the plan 
would have been to set off about seven in the morning ; 
but the offer of M. Perrot to accompany me was too 
good to be refused. On coming down-stairs, I found 
he had already called to say that he would be occupied 
with his masons for a considerable time, but that he 
would meet me at my destination at eleven o'clock ; 
and he likewise left word that he had deputed the 
sacristan to put me into the right way. 

The manuscript he had lent me, and which I waded 



Church of Kermaria. 



85 



nearly through, was in the shape of a letter from 
M. Geslin de Bourgogne, Inspector of Historical Monu- 
ments, to the Prefect of the Cotes du Nbrd, in which 
he calls the Chapel of Kermaria " Tun des plus beaux 
et des plus vastes vaisseaux des Cotes du Nord." The 
piece of sculpture in possession of the cure (in whose 
parish the building stands) he represents as "the 
crowning of the Mother of God : she is seated, and 
receives on her brow the diadem which exalts her 
above angels and saints/ 5 

After a long, elaborate, and highly-coloured de- 
scription of the whole of the edifice, he adds, " Tel est 
encore, Monsieur le Prefet, l'etat d'une de ces grandes 
mines nationales, devant lesquelles le coeur se serre 
de tristesse, en songeant que non seulement nous ne 
pouvons i miter nos peres, mais que nous ne savons 
mertie pas conserver les chefs- d'ceuvre que leur foi et 
leur gout, ecloire de Fart, ont leguee." 

A sentiment which is essentially French. 

As might have been expected from this grandilo- 
quent account, I was somewhat curious to set eyes on 
the building. Leaving the priest's books at the house 
of the sacristan, as requested, I walked a short dis- 
tance with that functionary, who put me into the right 
way. 

Obtaining the keys of the church from a man in the 
hamlet, I entered the building, which, though desig- 
nated in the best style of the fourteenth century, was 
really nothing extraordinary. For a village church it 
was undoubtedly handsome ; but as for hinting that it 
was a chef -cV centre, and "one of the great national 
ruins, before which the heart lies locked in grief/' the 
notion was absurd. The most interesting part of the 
church was the entrance-porch, outside of which were 



86 



The Pardon of Guingamp* 



two figures, and the interior of which was beautifully 
executed. The ceiling was groined, and statues of the 
twelve Apostles were ranged under the wall on either 
side, and in the midst of them stood our Lady of Ker- 
maria. Above the porch (and here is the chief curiosity) 
was the chamber of justice of the Seigneur de Lysandrez, 
round which ran an elegant granite balustrade. 

If the Inspector of Historical Monuments had de- 
signated especially this portion of it as a chef-d'oeuvre, 
he would not, perhaps, have been so far wrong ; but in 
applying the expression to the entire building, in his 
professional enthusiasm, he strained a point. 

At the old Norman church of Clapton, near Portis- 
head, in Somersetshire, there existed once a similar 
chamber oyer the entrance-porch ; but people living on 
the spot are uncertain of the purposes for which it was 
employed. I once instanced to the rector, on visiting 
it, the present case. 

The south transept of Kermaria, however, and the 
western doorway were good. The interior consisted of 
nave and aisles, nothing extraordinary, on the walls, 
above the pillars of which were antique paintings, 
recently brought to light, representing the Dance of 
Death. All the figures were hand- in-hand, and the 
tyrant was leading them away. One set perpetuated 
some noble lady who had been twice in wedlock. She 
appeared to be in her shroud, and each husband was 
holding her by a hand. This is termed " la danse 
Macabre." Antiquarians from Paris had come down 
to copy it. Beneath this train of figures are likewise 
representations of many of the prophets. The interior 
of the church seemed to be honeycombed with vaults. 
One of these was half open, and the sexton lighting a 
candle, I descended into it by steps. It contained 



Distant Scenery. 



87 



nothing, however, except a couple of skulls and a 
quantity of bones. 

After waiting a considerable time, I bad almost given 
up tbe chance of the cure making his appearance, and 
was just on the point of moving off, when I discovered 
that my watch was a great deal in advance, and shortly 
afterwards, on looking in the direction in which a 
peasant was beckoning to me, I descried Monsieur Perrot 
coming down the road, with a magnificent mastiff by 
his side. We entered the church together, and he then 
pointed out one or two features which I had not before 
noticed. He informed me that he was going to dine 
with another cure that day, and would accompany me 
a portion of the way to Lanvollon. He seemed grati- 
fied that a stranger should take interest in what he saw, 
but he told me he had never been far away from his 
native place. Before us stretched a long chain of hills, 
one of which rose up isolated in a somewhat remarkable 
manner from the rest. I inquired of him what they 
were. 

" That which you see towering above the others," 
said he, " is the mountain of Mene-Bre. That speck 
on the summit is a chapel, in which, in the fifth cen- 
tury, a council of bishops was held. All the country 
in which we now are, formed, in ancient times, a 
portion of the county of Goelo." 

Yes, on that isolated peak of the chain of Black 
Mountains, tradition asserts that Guin-Clan, the prophet- 
bard of the fifth century, took up his abode ; and in 
that very same far-off chapel was it that St. Herve and 
the prelates of Domnonee hurled their anathemas 
against Commore the accursed. 

Monsieur Perrot likewise spoke of the beauty of the 
coast in the neighbourhood of Morlaix, and told me 



88 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



how that there was a harbour there in the earliest por- 
tion of the Christian era ; for the disciples of St. Paul 
and of J oseph of Arimathaea had come over to convert 
the people, and had landed at that very spot. 

We continued in conversation until we arrived at the 
little village of Ploudual, where the cure was going to 
dine ; but he wished me to come into the house of his 
friend, in order to show me, in an encyclopaedia, the 
explanation of the word " Macabre.' 9 I was ushered 
into the dining-room while he went up-stairs ; and 
presently he came down, accompanied by two other 
priests. The apartment was plainly furnished, much 
in the same style as his own. The host was polite 
enough to ask me to remain to dinner, and to offer me 
some refreshment, which, however, I declined. I then 
continued my route to Lanvollon, which was about 
three miles off. Resting here a short time, I walked 
on till I came to Goudelin, which contains nothing 
worth noticing ; though, at a hamlet about a quarter of 
a mile off, there is a rather fine church, that of Notre 
Dame de Lille et de St. Eloy. 

Owing to the similarity which exists between the 
Breton language and the Celtic of our own country, I 
had taken care to provide myself with a small Welsh 
vocabulary, which, in order to try and ascertain the ex- 
tent of the similarity, I carried about with me wherever 
I went. I had handed it to Monsieur Perrot in 
the morning ; but he, after looking at it for a moment, 
had shaken his head, and confessed his ignorance of 
the contents. I subsequently referred him to the 
numerals at the end of the book, which, though not 
exactly spelt in the same manner as the Breton, are 
similar in sound. He understood them at once, and 
began repeating them with quite an air of triumph as 



The Breton Dialects, 



8 9 



he walked along : Un, dau, tri, pedwar, pump, chwch, 
saith, wyth, naw, deg. 

As, however, in Wales there are two, so likewise in 
Brittany there are four distinct dialects : viz., those of 
Leon, Treguier, Cornouaille, and Vannes ; and it is this 
last only which they say is intelligible to the Welsh. 
Though derived from one common stock, yet in the 
lapse of centuries they have diverged so widely, that the 
people of one district are totally unable to understand 
those of another. On such a curious and interesting 
matter as this it would not be safe to hazard an asser- 
tion merely from hearsay, or from what one gathers 
out of local books. The old works on Brittany contain 
many unintelligible statements, which, though it would 
be quite unjustifiable to assert that they were erroneous, 
are at any rate inapplicable to the state of the country 
in the present day. 

As to the question of the essential difference between 
the several dialects, I was assured by some strolling 
merchants who held a booth at Guingamp during the 
period of the fair, that although they were Bretons 
themselves, and perfectly familiar with their own local 
idiom, the speech of many of the country-people was to 
them so dissonant and uncouth, that they were quite 
unable to keep up a conversation with them, or even to 
understand what they said. 

One remark, however, is perhaps self-evident. A 
Breton looking at a Welsh book would ordinarily be 
quite unable to comprehend its contents ; and yet, for 
all that, might possibly catch up a portion of the sense, 
if, instead of reading it, he were to hear the same 
sentence correctly pronounced. Still, when intelligent 
people assert that their own inspection of written Welsh 
is to them but as an unknown language, it proves, at 



90 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

any rate, that there can be very little similarity at the 
present day between the two. I had throughout a very 
great curiosity to meet with some one who could under- 
stand the vocabulary. What, therefore, the results of 
these efforts were will be stated further on. 



THE BAY OF THE DEAD. 



The night is upon us : how black the sky ! 
The sea is running, is mountains high. 
The whirlwind rnshes in spray and sand, 
And the gulls are screaming far inland, 
Where the stoutest trees are bending. 

Yes, and the voice of the Lord is loud, 
As the hissing breaks out the loaded cloud ; 
To us on shore it's a fearful sight, 
For oh ! this long, this terrible night 
To many shall know no ending. 

Now a blinding gleam on the darkness dense, 
From the far East flashes with speed intense ; 
The word has echoed from lip to lip, 
In the rock- thick offing a fated ship, 
With the hurricane fierce is striving ; 

The eye grows giddy, the heart grows sick ; 
With dying men the shrouds are thick ; 
In vain they huddle from stern to stem ; 
We shudder and groan as we gaze on them, 
To their near, near death-doom driving. 

Its hecatomb ere morn must claim, 
The bay of the dead with its dreadful name. 
Can Heaven, who gave these priceless lives 
For solace once to mothers and wives, 
Be thus of woe the sender ? 



The Bay of the Dead. 



91 



In wrath, the fatal bolt has spread ; 
Thick clouds are battling overhead ; 
Wild terror breeds a frantic force ; 
They tear their hair as they wail their loss, 
And call on their Defender. 

Slow night draws off each curving reach. ; 
Its grim tale mutters the iron beach ; 
Wide chinks unhinge a starting deck, 
And the shore for miles is strew'd with wreck, 
As the cautious day is peeping. 

The wind 's going down ; the listless sun 
On the landscape smiles, but the mischief 's done ; 
The breath of the spring is on all ; the surge 
Is quiet, just sings a simple dirge, 
O'er many, too many, sleeping. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



The Eve of St. Peter. — Flocking in of Mendicants.— Church of Guin- 
gamp.— Decorations for the Pardon. — Votive Tablets. — Image of 
the Virgin. —Devout Worshippers. — Hymn to our Lady. — Defini- 
tion of a Pardon. — Establishment of that of Guingamp. 




N" my return to Guingamp I found that the 
Place in the centre of the town was being 
rapidly fitted up with booths, and shops, and 
theatres, in anticipation of the approaching fete. As 
I was strolling over in the evening, I noticed a 
large pile of faggots in the centre of the square. Out 
of these rose a lofty pole, on the summit of which a 
large and beautiful garland of roses had been placed. 
Presently, towards nightfall, a procession of priests and 
singing-men, arrayed in gorgeous robes, and bearing 
crosses and lighted tapers in their hands, might have 
been perceived advancing slowly down the street, and 
chanting as they came along. It was the eve of St. 
Peter's day. Passing solemnly round the pile, and 
arranging themselves about it, one venerable priest 
applied his long lighted candle to a faggot, the chant- 
ing going on meanwhile. The pile, however, would 
not ignite. The procession, therefore, waited about ten 
minutes, but all in vain ; and so, being still unsuccess- 
ful, they slowly returned to the church in the same 
manner as they came. The crowd itself, however, was 
not dispirited by the ill success ; for shortly after the 
departure of the priests and singing-men, they made a 



Preparations for the Pardon. 



93 



somewhat more fortunate attempt. The faggots then 
having speedily ignited, a tall flame was immediately 
created, which rose high into the air, and swayed to and 
fro, licking the garland of roses with its fiery tongue. 

The flowers were singed, but still held their place. 
This lasted about a quarter of an hour, the crowd yet 
remaining under the lofty pole, which I expected every 
moment would snap and fall heavily to the ground. It 
would probably soon have toppled over and injured 
some of the reckless bystanders, had not one determined 
individual seized hold of a stick, and bent the burning 
mass towards him, when the people immediately gave 
way and retreated, and the charred mast then came 
down with a strain and crash upon the now vacant 
ground. 

On the following day, which was Friday, great pre- 
parations were everywhere industriously going on. At 
each of the three angles of the Place was again erected 
a similar lofty pole, emerging from an enormous heap 
of faggots, and on the summit of which floated a light 
white banner with this inscription, " Vive Marie." A 
large panorama of the battle of Solferino was advertised 
in front of one of the booths ; whilst on a stage outside, 
two fantastic clowns, one of them very tall, and the 
other very short and fat, were endeavouring by their 
drolleries to induce the people to go in. 

On another Place at the entrance of the town were 
likewise being erected a large quantity of temporary 
wooden houses, for the accommodation of the numerous 
pilgrims who were expected to arrive on the following 
day. They were merely fitted up with benches and 
tables; and enormous barrels of cider were being 
brought within. Crowds of mendicants were flocking 
into the town; literally, the poor, the maimed, the 



94 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



halt, and the blind. One woman I caught sight of 
who was carried on her couch. 

At the hotel a number of extra beds were being put 
up in many of the larger chambers, as well as in the 
sitting-rooms ; whilst even in one of these temporary- 
sleeping apartments a long supper-table was laid out 
for the accommodation of strangers on the eventful 
night. 

And now, as the chief scene and centre of the Pardon, 
it will be proper to give some slight description of the 
church. To speak in general terms, then, it is an 
edifice consisting of an amalgamation of styles, of which 
Gothic is the leading feature ; the whole, when com- 
pared with an ordinary cathedral, making up in beauty 
what it wants, perhaps, in superior size. The present 
building may be referred essentially to the thirteenth or 
fourteenth century, though a certain portion of it bears 
traces of the period of the Renaissance. Its plan is 
oblong, the nave being divided, as it were, into five 
narrow portions, surmounted at the western end by two 
square towers, and terminating at the east in three 
aisles only. Four stately and massive pillars at the 
entrance of the choir support the central tower ; whilst 
a pentagonal apse forms the extremity of the eastern end. 

Round these four pillars, and issuing directly out of 
them, had originally been grouped a series of the most 
delicately- sculptured figures, representing kings, prin- 
cesses, bishops, and other important personages, besides 
dogs, dragons, lions, and fantastic devices of various 
sorts. These strange figures had likewise been grouped 
round many of the other pillars ; but the Revolution, as 
a matter of course, destroyed the greater portion of 
these. Happily, the interior of the church was now 
being worthily restored ; the splendid granite, of which 



The Church of Guingamp. 



95 



the edifice was built, was being superficially picked; 
and many of the original statues, some of them under 
sculptured canopies, replaced. 

In a niche at the south side, one of the figures is seen 
loosing a scroll, on which the following sentence is 
engraved : — 

" Quidquid agas, sapienter agas, et respice finem." 
Let wisdom mark whate'er you do, and bear the end in mind. 

The difference of style in the various parts of the 
building is nowhere more conspicuous than in the con- 
dition of the triforia which surmount the columns of 
the central nave. That on the north side displays in 
its construction the lightness and elegance of the pointed 
arch ; that on the south side the heavier and severer 
style of the Renaissance. The western doorway was 
originally a magnificent work of art. It consists of two 
lofty portals, separated by an airy pillar, surmounting 
which is a now empty recess. Around it are innumer- 
able garlands of flowers and other profuse ornaments, 
all delicately sculptured in granite, as likewise statues 
of the twelve xlpostles, each in its separate niche. At 
the pediment were originally two herculean figures 
supporting an escutcheon, but hopelessly mutilated by 
the revolutionary hammer. 

One of the most noticeable features in the interior of 
the church is that of the graceful flying-buttresses be- 
tween the pillars and the walls in the choir aisles. 
The whole of the building, however, is so replete with 
beauty, that it would require much more space to 
describe it than can be well spared in a book of this 
sort. Most of its stained- glass windows have long since 
disappeared ; though it is possible, since the work of 
restoration is being so effectually carried out, that 

many of them may be replaced at some future day. 



96 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



The ceiling of the choir was already painted in gold 
and azure, and a skilful workman from Paris was busily- 
employed in erecting and arranging a new marble altar, 
and restoring the window above it in one of the side 
aisles. So far was it, however, from completion, that 
it seemed next to impossible that he could finish it 
thoroughly in time for the approaching fete. 

In such a building as this, where the excellence of 
the architecture and the beauty of detail were so pro- 
minent and striking, the gaudy and temporary orna- 
ments which are usually required to deck out the 
Grecian and Italian-modelled churches would here have 
been superfluous ; though, in addition to festoons of 
lamps which were being here and there strung up, 
light silk banners, with such inscriptions as these, had 
been hung round the building in profusion on the pre- 
vious days : " Ave regina angelorum," " Mater puris- 
sima ora pro nobis," " Virgo prsedicanda ora pro nobis," 
" Stella matutina ora pro nobis," " Elle est notremere," 
" Vive Pie IX.," and many others. 

Not the least venerated portion of the building, how- 
ever, was the northern porch or chapel, which contained 
the image of Our Lady ; for the church from the earliest 
times had been placed under the invocation of " Notre 
Dame de bon secours." This entrance vestibule, on the 
summit of the steps leading to it, was but partially 
concealed from the street by lofty gates in work of 
filigree. The interior was no less delicately designed. 
The roof was groined, and had latterly been painted in 
gold and azure. The most conspicuous object here was 
the above-mentioned image of the Virgin in a crown 
of gold, and round her were ranged beautiful figures 
of the twelve Apostles, with Paul in the place of Judas, 
and as large as life. 



Tradition of the Image. 



97 



Everywhere on the walls were pictures of miracles 
asserted to have been performed by Our Lady, and 
marble tablets with inscriptions such as these in letters 
of gold : " Grloire a Marie; " " Marie exauce ma priere; " 
" Marie exauce nos yceux ; " " Oh, Marie, je ne vous ai 
pas invoque en vain ; " " Hommage a J^otre Dame de 
bon secours pour une faveur obtenue 7 bre 1858 " Re- 
connaissance a Xotre Dame de bon secours 7 bre 1858/' 

There is also an inscription recording how her statue 
was solemnly crowned in the year 1857 by the Bishops 
of St. Brieuc and Treguier, assisted by four other 
bishops and six hundred priests ; as likewise of the faith- 
ful, an innumerable crowd. 

The tradition goes that this image, which was origin- 
ally brought from Marseilles, was, together with those 
of the twelve Apostles, mutilated by the fury of the 
revolutionary mob. When, however, the Virgin fell, 
her head rolled at the feet of one of the sacrilegious 
crowd, who carried it home with him, and asserted he 
had taken part in the desecration through motives of 
fear alone. At the jubilee of 1805 this man revealed 
his secret on oath to the Abbe Lagain, and declared his 
intention of restoring it, if it could be effected without 
the knowledge of any one in the town. It was, there- 
fore, found that on the night between the 1st and 2nd 
of July it had been most mysteriously replaced. 

Morning and evening during every day in the w r eek, 
but especially on that which preceded the Pardon, the 
chapel had been crowded with worshippers of every 
sort. Candles were being continually lighted within 
it. Sometimes a mother might be seen entering the 
precincts, holding a young son or daughter in her 
hand ; now it was a peasant who knelt devotionally 
before the image of Our Lady ; and now a wife leading 

H 



g8 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

cautiously forward a blind and helpless man. Having 
lighted a taper and uttered a prayer, they would 
emerge as silently as they came. Next door to the 
church was a shop devoted to the sale of wax candles 
of every size, the proprietors of which must have reaped 
a golden harvest during those few days. 

The image of the Virgin seemed to have been under 
the especial care of one or two ladies in the town, who 
had dressed her up in a robe of coloured satin ; they 
had likewise placed vases of artificial flowers in various 
parts of the chapel, and brought innumerable tapers to 
fill the candelabra for the coming fete. Another image 
of the Virgin likewise stood over one of the altars in 
the church itself. She was there called the model of 
mothers, and was teaching her young Son to read. 

For several days a woman might have been seen 
bearing about the streets, on a species of hand-cart, the 
picture of a shipwreck, in which in one corner the same 
personage was represented as affording aid to the 
afflicted. She was styled " Mary, refuge for sinners, 
and consoler of the distressed." This woman's trade 
seems to have been confined to singing a hymn in the 
Breton language with another companion in honour of 
" Our Lady/' and selling the printed copies of it for a 
sou. As the hymn was chanted by those who took 
part in the procession on the night of the Pardon, I 
here subjoin a translation from the French version of 
the same : — 

A NOTEE DAME DE BON SECOTJES. 

Bbothees, 'tis meet, in these glad days, 
That we, her faithful sons, should deem 

Ascriptions of Our Lady's praise, 

The due, though small, of such esteem \ 



Hymn to Our Lady. 



99 



Not less whose willing worship were 
To us, than our forefathers, dear ; 
Mother of God supreme ! 

Did he, life's tedious load assign'd, 
To you, when grief and torturing pain 

Eack'd his worn limbs and gall'd his mind, 
E'er breathe his ardent vows in yam ? 

Or when did, all their faith in you, 

Mother, of one dear friend untrue, 
Sorrow- worn hearts complain ? 

world-worn ! such confirm, console ; 

Into each pilgrim spirit pour 
Good heart to breast the waves which roll, 

Nor less what time dun tempests roar, 
On the toss'd seaman's pathway shine, 
Star of the wave, Light divine, 

Guide as the loadstone sure. 

Oft when as one our voices blend, 

On suppliant knee the boon who crave, 

From foes abroad deliverance send, 
Protect the generous, guard the brave, 

The brave by land and sea who roam, 

And from rude strife each peaceful home, 
Lady, sweet Lady, save. 

Thus, ever thus, that sheltering hand 
To guide and guard from tinge of ill, 

Lady, stretch'd o'er your loyal land, 
Shall all your loved sons' hopes fulfil ; 

Shall yet to prince and people be, 

From plagues a refuge, sweet Marie, 
Source of all true good- will ! 

" One gives the name of Pardon, in Brittany/' says 
a Breton writer, " to a chapel, a fountain, a consecrated 
place, from the recollection of some miracle or saint. 
People there confess, communicate, give alms, submit 
to some superstitious practice ; they buy crosses, chap- 
lets, or images, with which tney touch the statue of 
the demigod; they rub the forehead, the knee, the 



ioo The Pardon of Guingamp. 



paralytic arm against some miraculous stone ; they 
throw farthings and pins into fountains ; they dip their 
shirts in order to be cured ; their girdles, to be pain- 
lessly delivered; their children, to be rendered inac- 
cessible to pain. They retire after having danced, after 
having become inebriated ; meagre, indeed, in wealth, 
but rich in hope. Don't you recognise in these practices 
the customs of ages the most remote ; the usages of the 
ancient Gauls, who consecrated fountains, and wor- 
shipped at their streams ?" 

The Pardon of Guingamp, one of the most important, 
if not the first in the whole of Brittany, owes its founda- 
tion to "the White Brotherhood," a society whose 
origin is now lost in the mist and uncertainty of time. 
Its motto, engraven on a white banner in letters of 
gold, was this, "Fun trineud a vec'h ez torrer ; " " A 
threefold cable is not easy to break." A sentence, by the 
way, in which some of the words point out, not neces- 
sarily the derivation, but at any rate the partial 
rela tionship of the Breton tongue. About the connection 
of the first two there can be no doubt ; the last — terri 
in Breton, past participle torret — is in "Welsh torrein, 
and signifies, to annihilate or destroy. 

" This triple cable was the emblem of the three orders 
— the nobility, the clergy, and the people — whose 
fraternal union alone made up the strength of that 
loved and heroic Brittany which the sword of the 
stranger found as impenetrable as its own granite rocks. 
The unknown founder of the Frerie blanche wished that 
the members of each individual order should live in the 
members of the other two, not as fellow-countrymen 
only, but as brothers also. It was the highest inspira- 
tion of patriotism, fostered by religious thought." 

Amongst the rules of the fraternity were, that a 



A Plenary Indulgence. 



101 



mass should be said for them every Monday in the 
year, and a service celebrated for each departed soul. 
On the third day of the fete there was formerly 
a banquet in the public Place, at which all the mem- 
bers sat down promiscuously, without any distinction 
of rank. In the year 1619, Pope Pius Y. accorded to 
the society a plenary indulgence, in the following 
terms : — 

"Since it is actually the case that m the parish 
church of Notre Dame, in the town of Gruingamp, in 
the bishopric of Treguier, there has existed for a long 
time an order of faithful Christians of either sex, and 
of various conditions of life, canonically founded under 
the invocation of the glorious Virgin Mary, and desig- 
nated the Frerie blanche : being anxious, moreover, to 
animate piety, and engage every one to join the order, 
we grant a plenary indulgence to all the faithful Chris- 
tians of either sex, on the day of their entering the 
brotherhood — on all the members who truly confessed 
and communicated, shall visit the said church of Notre 
Dame de Gruingamp on the day and fete of the Visita- 
tion of the Blessed Virgin Mary, which it is the custom 
every year to celebrate on the second day of July — 
who shall devotionally pray for the preservation of 
concord and peace amongst all Christian princes — who 
shall render hospitality to the poor pilgrims — shall 
make peace with their enemies, and shall promote it 
amongst others — shall, in short, sweetly bring into the 
way of salvation some unfortunate and erring soul." 

With such promises of pardon as these held out, it is 
not astonishing that the number of pilgrims to the 
shrine of Our Lady increased so wonderfully year by 
year. 

The Order of the White Brotherhood is now extinct. 



102 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

It would have been wonderful indeed if the fire and 
sword of the revolutionary fury had not succeeded in 
destroying the constituent fibres of that once mighty 
cord. The custom of the pilgrimage, however, together 
with that of the procession, is still kept up, as also a 
solemn mass for the repose of the souls of all deceased 
members of the order, and of Brittany's ancient dukes. 
The clergy, likewise, and the tradesmen of the town 
still assemble together at the house of the cure on the 
day of the Pardon, in memory of the concord which 
was anciently typified by the junction of the three 
strong cables into one — " live coals," says M. Ropartz, 
who has written a small hand-book of the town and its 
vicinity, "upon which the Spirit of God may yet, 
perhaps, one day breathe." 



CHAPTER IX. 

Arrival of Pilgrims. — Appearance of the Church Eelics. — Customs at 
the Pardon. — The Fair. — Amusements. — A Game-Cock for a 
Halfpenny. — Dancing. — A Tradition. — The Procession. — Light- 
ing the Bonfires. — Scene in the Church. — Paradise. — Encamp- 
ment of Pilgrims. — Reflections on the Pardon. — Demeanour of 
Strangers. 

AVING thus given some account of the true 
signification of a Pardon, I shall proceed to 
describe the appearance which Gruingamp pre- 
sented on the morning of the eventful day. The first 
sight, then, which greeted me, on leaving the hotel in 
order to take a stroll through the town, was a con- 
course of strange and wild-looking people, who had 
arrived the evening before, or during the night, from 
almost every part of Brittany, and habited in costumes 
which one could scarcely have believed were really in 
existence in the present century in a country so com- 
paratively near to our own shores. 

Foremost amongst these were the weary peasants 
from distant Cornouaille, in their dark tight gaiters, 
with full white trousers tied closely about the knee, and 
which from thence to the thighs swelled largely out- 
wards, somewhat after the fashion of an inflated balloon. 
These had mostly yellow-bordered vests, with spangles 
in the place of buttons, and over this a long, loose, col- 
larless jacket coming down to the waist ; the edges also 
gaily embroidered and decorated with spangles similar 
to the vest. Some of them were dressed entirely in 




1 04 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

white flannel, bordered with black velvet, and made up 
into the same shape. Their hair, cropped short at the 
top, fell loosely over their shoulders, and reached far 
down the back. A species of wideawake hat, with very 
broad brim, covered their heads, and a gaily-coloured 
ribbon often floated jauntily behind. The women were 
attired in costumes which corresponded with those of the 
men : petticoats broidered at the bottom with red and 
gold, and vests and bodices of the same type. A cross 
of two or three inches in length usually hung about 
their necks. 

Then, again, there was the Leonard peasant, clothed 
in a rough black suit, with his collarless jacket reaching 
likewise to his waist. His broad-brimmed hat was de- 
corated with silver strings and tassels, and a white 
metal buckle was conspicuous in front. Women of 
Morbihan, also, whose costume was the strangest and 
most melancholy of all. With their dark sackcloth- 
looking hoods, fitting tightly over their heads, and 
ending in tippets, all of the same piece, which de- 
pended to the waist, they were as near an approach 
to the type of Eastern women as one would imagine 
could be seen in Europe. Their sombre appearance 
well corresponded with the savage and ungrateful soil 
of the department from whence they came. 

Numbers of these had made their long pilgrimage 
with heavy wooden shoes on their feet and a staff in 
their hand ; and not a few, I was told, might have 
travelled all the way with the self-imposed vow of not 
opening their lips in speech whilst on their wearisome 
journey. When yet from far they hail the welcome 
steeple of the Church of Our Lady, they all devoutly 
make the sign of the cross, and the men lay bare their 
sunburnt foreheads to the evening breeze. 



Scene in the Church. 



Making my way through, the crowd into the church, 
the scene was wild and strange in the extreme. The 
chapel of the northern porch was so thick with people 
on their knees, that it was with the greatest difficulty I 
could pass. The body itself of the building was scarcely 
less dense. The high altar had been grandly decorated 
with gold and silver ornaments, artificial flowers, and 
lofty candles, of the usual elaborate design. A hand- 
some gold or gilded lamp hung suspended from the 
ceiling, and had been presented by a lady as a gift on 
the previous night. People moving round to the dif- 
ferent shrines came in through one door and went out 
by another ; and services were going on at each. Men 
and women were making the tour of the church, by 
way of penance, on their bare knees. One, apparently 
fast asleep and overcome with fatigue, was lying undis- 
turbed in a corner at the western end, and another was 
fainting on the outside steps. All of them, with few 
exceptions, seemed thoroughly absorbed in the exciting 
scene. 

With respect to those who were doing penance 
round the church (and one man accomplished it twice 
at least, not to say three times, under my own eyes), I 
was subsequently informed that the poor are frequently 
paid for so doing by those who would themselves be 
ashamed of the public humiliation, in order to the pre- 
sumed expiation of their own sins. It was certainly 
an incident which lent a somewhat ludicrous aspect to 
the otherwise imposing sight. 

In another part of the building the crowd by turns 
had come to congregate round a large case of relics, 
which contained, beside ancient crosses and innu- 
merable other antiquities, a heart of silver and a crown 
of gold. The principal object of veneration, however, 



io6 The Pardon of Gui?igamp. 



was the gilded bust of Pope Pius V., which stood on 
table close by. In his breast were the relics of St. 
Julian and St. Julia, St. Marcella and St. Alexander, 
with numerous others, all martyrs ; whilst in his 
skull, amongst various precious morsels, were some 
fragments of St. Peter Chrysologus and St. Yincent ; 
the more valuable, perhaps, because scarcely larger 
than a large pin's head. The female peasants came in 
crowds to kneel down before it, and then rising up, 
kissed the head tenderly on either side, and rubbed 
their hands all over his face. During all this time the 
great bell was tolling solemnly, and the organ pealing 
forth its thundering sound. It was an exhibition 
difficult to have realised, and one calculated to have a 
powerful effect upon a stranger's mind. 

In a large silver dish, on a table hard by, were being 
rapidly deposited the offerings of the faithful ; this was 
emptied, by a man in attendance for the purpose, as 
soon as it was full. I was told that probably fifteen 
thousand francs would be collected on that day ; nor 
was there the slightest difficulty in believing it, from 
the rapid flow of money which was incessantly going 
on. It was said that in one of the early services of 
that morning a number of peasants from the remoter 
portions of the province had taken possession of the 
seats in the choir, so that the attendant priests had 
been obliged to resort to chairs. They, however, 
willingly put up with the inconvenience, because many 
of the apparently poorest peasants make the largest 
offerings. Some of them are in reality very rich, and 
not unfrequently bestow a hundred francs. Those who 
have no money show their devotion in some other way; 
and before the gilt bust of Pope Pius V., I noticed, as 
voluntary offerings, several long tresses of luxuriant 



Privileged Altars. 



107 



hair. As I looked on these, I was forcibly reminded 
of the conversation between Helen and Electra in the 
tragedy of Orestes : — 

Helen. — Wilt thou go to the tomb of my sister ? 
Electra. — To my mother's tomb dost thou bid me ? Why ? 
Helen. — Bearing my libations, and the first offerings of my 
hair. 

And again : — - 

Electra. — Bightly hast thou spoken. I obey thee, virgin, and 
will send my daughter, for thou sayest well. child Hermione ! 
come forth before the house, and take these libations in thy 
hands, together with my hair ; and having come to the tomb 
of Clytemnestra, leave there this mixture of milk and honey, 
and the froth of wine ; and standing on the summit of the tomb, 
say thus 

Though the purpose of the offerings of the modern 
Breton differs from that of the 'ancient Greek, can any 
doubt exist that the custom, at any rate, may not be 
traced to the same source ? 

One of the privileged altars in the church, in front 
of and around which, the whole day, the crowd was 
extremely dense, had, held attached to it in perpetuity, 
all the indulgences which are enjoyed by the Order of 
Mount Carmel in Rome — 1. For the exaltation of the 
Church ; 2. For the extirpation of heresies ; 3. For 
the concord of Christian princes — that is, to all who 
would devoutly pray for these. 

As for the marble altar which had been in course of 
erection during the week, it was now all but complete. 
The artisan from Paris must have worked at it inde- 
fatigably the entire night, for the transformation was 
wonderful, and the entire wall above it had been 
painted with devices of parti- coloured gold. 

By far the greater portion of people who thronged 
the church was composed of the pilgrims who had 



108 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

travelled from the remoter corners of the province. 
One man in particular, in his dark and sombre attire, 
and with his long, dishevelled, yellow hair floating down 
his back, was the wildest-looking specimen of humanity 
I had ever seen. He was the very type and picture of 
one of the savages of ancient Gaul. 

The incessant throng and motion throughout the 
venerable building continued till the fall of night, and 
the organ was still heard pealing forth its somewhat 
lively tones till late in the afternoon. Had it been but 
the beautiful instrument which takes up the refrain in 
the Cathedral of St. Brieuc, the magical influence of 
the unwonted scene would have been complete. Every 
one who made his way into the gallery was expected to 
give a sou at least towards the benefit of the organist ; 
and the ringers likewise claimed that token of all who 
ascended the staircase of the belfry on that day. 

But though the church was the principal centre of 
attraction, it was far from being the only one, either to 
the concourse of pilgrims or to the inhabitants of the 
town. Besides the bustling and crowded fair which 
was going on at the central Place, there was another 
equally extensive demonstration on the open area at the 
extremity of the main street. The former was princi- 
pally the point of commerce ; the latter was the strong- 
hold of the commissariat, besides being devoted to 
amusements of every sort. The numerous accommoda- 
tion booths, or temporary wooden inns, were all crowded 
with country-people, who were seated on benches before 
long rows of tables, enjoying their coarse and homely 
fare. They seemed invariably to have brought with 
them their own provisions, whilst the proprietors of the 
booths supplied them with cider out of enormous wooden 
casks. 



Amusements at the Fair. 109 

At a certain part of the course, one or two women 
were driving a profitable trade by the retail vending of 
a large quantity of not over- fresh fish, which they fried 
in pans on extempore fires in the open air. They were 
doling out portions of it for a penny to the hungry 
multitude, who put the greasy purchase, gravy and all, 
into bits of paper — yes, printed paper — and then 
marched off to enjoy themselves leisurely over the 
savoury feast. Another party were boiling milk in a 
caldron over a smoky wood-fire, large black particles 
from which were continually falling into the pot. The 
people came here in no small numbers to fill their 
cups with the questionable fluid as a relish to their 
dry bread. "What is that?" I asked of one of 
the purchasers; "is it milk?" " Ah, no, it's 
water," replied he, with a very comic look ; and true 
enough, I had a moment before perceived the vendor 
going with a large bowl towards the boiling caldron 
to dilute it with no inconsiderable quantity of the 
cheaper fluid, which made it look certainly most sus- 
piciously blue. 

Amongst the various amusements common to our own 
English fairs, such as riding on wooden horses round a 
circle, looking through peep-holes, wonderful theatricals, 
galleries of fine arts, bagatelle, rouge et noir, and others, 
there was one man who amused me considerably by a 
strange device. He had a pole stuck vertically into 
the ground, surmounted by a cord, along which, by 
means of a pulley, ran a piece of iron. About a foot 
from the ground was another rope, which was tied at 
the extremity to a second pole, and along this slid two 
iron rings. A meek bird, which had the appearance 
of a vanquished game-cock, was tied to a stick on one 
side of the apparatus, little dreaming that he was the 



1 1 o The Pardon of Guingamp. 

subject of so much anxiety to his lord and master. The 
game was this : — The man, taking the upper cord in one 
hand, and having previously passed the rings on to the 
other end, gave it a dexterous jerk, so as to catch them 
by the piece of iron and pull them towards him. Of 
course this required practice and dexterity, and it was 
few who could accomplish it, even after several attempts. 
He was all the day attracting the pleasure- seeking 
multitude with cries of " Un coq pour un sou ; la ! qui 
va acheter le coq ? " After this exclamation he would 
give the string a jerk, and show the astonished audience 
how easy it was to win a cock for a sou. Few, how- 
ever, seemed willing to try their luck. They were all 
very ready to listen and to look on, but not to commit 
themselves to the rash attempt. A Breton hasn't the 
slightest objection to be amused and gratified in his 
own quiet way, but he will generally think twice 
before daring to become extravagant, even with a 
single halfpenny. 

Having watched the proceedings several times as I 
walked up and down, I at last went up to him and 
said, " Well, you haven't, then, lost your bird?" 
" Comment ! " replied he bitterly, in a mingled tone 
of disappointment and reproach ; " how can I lose it ? 
I give them a franc instead. It's perfectly disgusting ; 
I haven't cleared fifteen sous to-day ; no one cares to 
make the attempt." By-and-by, however, by dint of 
shouting and showing how easy it was to win a cock 
for a sou, one adventurous youth bargained that he 
should be allowed to have four trials for his halfpenny, 
a somewhat dangerous hazard for the poor man, which 
only his despair of being able to agree to other terms 
induced him at length to risk. The boy, to his horror, 
proved somewhat skilful, and was within an ace of 



Mirthful Peasants. 



1 1 1 



catching the rings, whilst the fright of the unfortunate 
proprietor, as he watched the several attempts, was 
something ludicrous. Nervously clutching his blouse 
in his hands, he frantically exclaimed, each time the 
jerk was given, " Ah, mon coq, mon coq, mon pauvre 
coq ! " and his satisfaction, when he found he had not 
lost it, was evident, if not loud. The youth made four 
more rash attempts for a sou, but without success ; and 
the poor man then perceived that no one else was 
encouraged by this example to try his luck. 

Close to this spot, where all the amusement and 
feasting were going on, an extensive horse-fair was 
being held ; so that the attractions of the day were 
numerous. Not a few good bargains, I'll warrant, 
were driven on that open space, as a large bag of 
napoleons which I saw incautiously counted out in one 
of the booths by a farmer testified. It is to be hoped 
he took care to go home sober that noisy night. 
When all the horses had been either sold or rejected, 
the ground was taken possession of for the remainder 
of the day by the mirthful peasants, who betook them- 
selves forthwith to dancing with right good- will. I am 
sorry not to be able to bear testimony in favour of the 
grace of these various performances, though it would 
be hazardous to assert that they were not national 
dances for all that. They consisted chiefly of forming 
into circles and joining hands. Only two of these sets 
boasted of musicians, if, indeed, can be dignified by 
that name one who is hired to strum vehemently on a 
fiddle, with no professed partiality for either harmony 
or time. Nevertheless, they were all supremely happy, 
and those who had no musicians of their own got up 
extempore music for themselves. 

Nor, indeed, in these good-humoured circles was 



112 The Pardon of Gui?igamp. 

there any restriction as to youth and beauty. Old 
women, shrivelled and sunburnt, but with a leaning to 
frolic, were admitted without hesitation into the laugh- 
ing ring ; and as for good looks ! — we are not now in 
Normandy, where in certain districts the striking 
appearance of the female peasants is proverbial ; and 
no one, perhaps, will come to Brittany for that. With 
respect to the gentlemen, they might literally be said 
to have beat the earth non levi pede ; and as for the 
ladies, they looked as grave and demure as all Breton 
ladies are expected to look in the face of young and 
eligible men. Nor, I dare say, was the sense of en- 
joyment of these gay peasants in any way diminished 
by the conviction, whether rightly or wrongly, of the 
good deed they were about to take part in shortly, and 
of the recollection of their having tenderly embraced 
the image of Our Lady of Mount Carmel at the marble 
altar, and of having gone to the Fountain of the 
Virgin in the market-place, whose statue, crowned 
with flowers, was trampling under its feet the departed 
symbols of the pagan faith, to taste the waters of the 
sacred spring. 

Towards eight o'clock the business of the day began 
to grow slack, and the pleasure-seekers to prepare for 
the great procession, the solemn taking part in which 
was to procure them the remission of their sins. The 
pilgrims now began quickly to concentrate, and in a 
very short time had blocked up almost impassably no 
inconsiderable portion of the main street. One intelli- 
gent person, and that a bookseller, had previously 
assured me that within the memory of man there 
never had been known an unfavourable hour for the 
celebration of this fete. The morning, indeed, might 
have been dull and lowering, the day all black and 



An Ancient Tradition. 



"3 



gloomy, with torrents of unceasing rain ; the evening 
still obscure and watery : but no sooner had the shades 
of night begun to fall upon the humid earth than all 
the rain and storm-clouds vanished, and the sky became 
propitious and serene. 

That night, at any rate, proved no exception to the 
tradition which had thus become an article of faith. 
Though it cannot be said that the morning had been 
one of many changes, it had not been that of uninter- 
rupted sunshine nevertheless. The evening, however, 
turned out clear and cloudless ; the stars were shining 
pale and brightly ; and the moon, in all but her full, had 
risen royally over the picturesque old houses in the 
Place. It was a strange sight. Within the church 
one priest was occupied in giving out coloured lanterns 
to the Bas-Bretons, and wooden staves with a nine- 
light candelabrum at the top. These were they, it might 
be concluded, who had travelled furthest, and perhaps 
make the largest offerings at Our Lady's shrine. 

I at first took up my station in the street opposite to 
the door from which the procession was expected to 
come forth ; but the crowd was there so dense that 
it seemed best eventually to move further down into 
the square. The fact is, that probably no church in 
Brittany would have been able to contain the enormous 
concourse who were about to join the ranks. When 
once, therefore, they were provided with candles, they 
issued forth into the street, and waited patiently to fall 
in in their proper turn. The windows in the houses 
bordering on the Place were now all thronged with 
anxious spectators ; the allurements of commerce were 
effectually suspended ; the unwarlike clowns at the 
battle of Solferino had ceased their insinuating foolery ; 
and the light white banners which were the ensigns of 

1 



ii4 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



the Virgin floated gaily and jauntily in the evening 
breeze. 

Soon after nine o'clock the distant strains of solemn 
chanting from the lips of singing-men and priests, 
caught up ever and anon by innumerable pilgrims, 
announced that the procession had begun to move. It 
advanced slowly and solemnly, each one bearing in his 
hand a lighted taper, and these of every form and size, 
from the small and humble candle of a sou to the long 
and elaborately-fashioned cierge. It had a curious and 
unwonted effect this interminable string of pilgrims ; 
the wild and monotonous chanting of the Virgin's 
hymn ; the extended line of torches, above and below, 
as far as the eye could reach ; the crowd of spectators 
on either side ; and the houses illuminated all along the 
Place. At the end of half an hour the procession was 
still defiling past. Proceeding to the extremity of the 
street, it made almost the entire circuit of the town, 
and then returned by the opposite side of the square to 
the point from which it originally set out. 

At the expiration of another quarter of an hour, the 
souods of louder and still more solemn chanting than 
before, together with the strains of distant music, gave 
warning that the more important portion of the retinue 
was about to pass. Ladies and young girls in white, 
with lofty tapers ; the privileged amongst the pilgrims 
with a host of banners ; B as- Bretons in white surplices, 
carrying aloft on their shoulders the bust of Pope Pius ; 
soldiers with drawn swords accompanying the sacred 
relics ; a string of civic officials ; and a multitude of 
priests — these brought up the rear of that enthusiastic 
and mystic throng. 

Passing slowly down the Place in the wake of those 
who preceded them, they halted in face of one of those 



The Procession. 



lofty poles, on the summit of which were still flying 
the banners with the " Ave Maria " and the " Yive 
Marie. " Collecting themselves in a circle round the 
pile of faggots, a light was solemnly applied to it by 
one of the accompanying priests. The success of the 
ignition was speedily made known by the wreath of 
flame which rose up fitfully into the air, and glared 
contrastingly upon the now settled darkness of the 
night. It was nearly half an hour before that same 
extremity of the procession had completed the required 
circuit, and arrived at the second of the high-towering 
poles. A similar ceremony was here again repeated, 
and shortly afterwards concluded at the third. Thus 
the three bonfires burning together cast a strong and 
lurid lustre upon the surrounding Place, reflecting 
strangely the wild and unearthly figures of the motley 
multitude, and illuminating the rose-crowned statue of 
the Virgin, who presided over the waters of the sacred 
spring. 

The soldiers with their drawn swords, in double line, 
now made an avenue through which the precious relics 
might return into the church. Here they were safely 
deposited, to rest secure awhile after the work they had 
so winningly performed — the faith they had confirmed, 
the hope they had strengthened, the charity they had 
so unboundedly called forth ; and, the night being 
almost spent, the faithful were at liberty to consider 
that the service of the day was past. From this 
moment, then, the Pardon essentially was finished, and 
the crowd of ten thousand began slowly and quietly to 
disperse. 

Yet, though the solemnity of the festival was almost 
consummated, much still remained to see and hear. 
As I passed onward and stood for an instant on the open 



1 1 6 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

space at the upper extremity of the town, it was evident 
that with some the enjoyment was only half completed, 
for no inconsiderable number had speedily returned to 
the gayer and more exciting attractions of the fete. 
These, however, were principally the peasants who had 
not travelled from any very distant part; they were 
dancing, as before, in circles, to the music of their own 
Breton songs ; whilst the numerous temporary houses 
of entertainment began again once more to fill. 

Shortly afterwards I bent my steps homeward, and 
as the church was still illuminated, I entered to take a 
farewell look at the motley pilgrim throng. The scene 
inside was striking ; nay, more, considering the time, 
the place, the circumstance, without the slightest 
exaggeration of sentiment, it might truly have been 
termed affecting. From the devout voices of hundreds 
of weary strangers who had come from far, were rising 
to the advancing midnight the solemn and striking 
asseverations of their eternal hopes. The hymn they 
were chanting was " Paradise ; " appropriate theme for 
the consummation of a pilgrim's toil. A priest at the 
altar gave out verse by verse, and then the people took 
it up in unison in their plaintive and melancholy 
Breton strain. When the distance which many of 
these poor people had accomplished during the last 
thirty-six hours is borne in mind, as likewise the in- 
cessant fatigue of moving about the streets, which they 
had gone through during the day, the tendency of their 
ideas, in this the crowning act of their lengthened pil- 
grimage, will at once be understood. Still, as if to add 
vet more to the strangeness of the scene in the now 
dim light, many of them, weary and overcome by 
fatigue, were everywhere lying prostrate on the flags 
around the granite pillars, fast asleep. This lengthened 



Paradise. 



1 1.7 



Breton hymn concluded, a mass in the same language 
was celebrated for their especial benefit ; and then, 
" when the day begins to break," says the author of 
the little book of which mention has before been made, 
" the pious throng disperse, and return to their cottage 
homes, to bear with them there the touching remem- 
brance of their patriotism and faith." 

Here is the hymn which rose so wildly on the mid- 
night air : — 



AE BAKADOZ. 

Their painful path the saints have trod, 

Jesus ! but now above, 
Before the face and throne of God, 

Their sunshine is His love. 

I muse, and sweetly fleet is time, 
And light are this world's pains, 

By night, by day ; past this cold clime, 
A heavenly rest remains. 

Than care-worn who would homeward fling 

To heaven his anxious eye, 
Did lorner mate, on milk-white wing, 

Ne'er to his true love fly. 

When, when shall lenient death's release 
Free me from grieving' s throe ? 

When shall this flesh, soul-tainting, cease, 
Jesus, thy vengeful foe ? 

The summons, faith-embraced who wait, 

The Saviour's face to see, 
With what true joy anticipate 

They their dear Lord's decree ! 

When the first sun- streak chides the night, 
My heavenward course I'll steer ; 

Best the lithe lark at morning light 
Brushes the keen still air. 



n8 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



Swift as his wings light ether beat, 

Immortally array 'd, 
Shall moons grow dim beneath my feet, 

And starry kingdoms fade. 

Soon the low vale of anguish past, 

When dawns th' eternal day, 
On the loved fatherland I'll cast 

My still fond glance, and say, 

Long, life — oh, hard, unequal part ! 

My lot to suffering drew ; 
Now grief, now sin, now thou sick heart, 

And poverty, adieu. 

]STo storm-clouds rage, no billows roll, 
Eound the fenced realms of light ; 

Here evil wiles this trembling soul 
Never shall more affright. 

Yes, her frail freight my toss'd bark saves ; 

The haven looms before ; 
Spite of wild winds and angry waves, 

She gains the rock-bound shore. 

Past floods of grief and rolling seas, 
Till when — oh, viewless hand ! — 

Opes the greed grave to death's cold keys, 
Safe on the shore I stand. 

Yisions of scarcely told delight 
Meet the 'tranced gaze around ; 

Mine eyes behold the dazzling sight, 
My ears drink in the sound. 

For saints the sacred portals guard ; 

(This charge their glory shows;) 
The gates of Paradise unbarr'd, 

Mysterious truths disclose. 

And sights divine my reverence claim, 

(Here mute my glory be !) 
Hail, Incommunicable Name ! 

undivided Three ! 



Paradise. 



Meek as of yore, as loving now, 
(How wide that love's renown !) 

The Saviour girds my deathless brow 
With an unfading crown. 

And from His lips such words I win, 

The form on earth you wore, 
Was but as treasure hid within 

Some consecrated store : 

But now you hold a worthy place 

Within my council-room, 
As lilies or white roses grace 

Earth in her vernal bloom. 

Though wither' d leaves on weeping earth, 

Lilies and roses strew, 
They rise afresh at springtide's birth, 

To bloom again like you. 

Yes, for light pain and anguish short 

(The load we meekly bore) 
Is in the high eternal court 

Bright recompense in store. 

Mother of Him our grief who met, 

What of her glory told ? 
With the twelve royal stars is set 

Her diadem of gold. 

And legions of archangels there 

God's own due praises sing ; 
Each in his hand — sweet sounds I hear — 

His willing harp doth bring. 

Girt all with glory, all with grace, 
Once one — though sunder' d long — 

By the true tie of kindred race, 
Bound our dear lost ones throng. 

No tender age, no virgin state, 

No heart by anguish torn, 
But doth the cheering glance await, 

In heaven no more forlorn. 



1 20 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



Children of joy and sons of light, 

Sweet happy angels all, 
So fair, so soft, so star-like bright, 

Once more their loved ones call. 

Eor bliss unquench'd their union leads 

(That bliss with suffering won), 
As gauze- wing' d swarms on summer meads 

The scented hours outrun. 

Bliss without bound ! when heart-break pain 

In the frail life is nigh, 
With you my loss is turn'd to gain, 

My griefs, my sorrows fly. 



It was half an hour after midnight when I once more 
passed through the town on my way back to the hotel. 
Even then people in no small numbers were walking 
about the streets ; whilst around the dying embers of 
the three great fires, circles of them, for want of better 
accommodation, had eagerly encamped, and were pro- 
bably settled there till the dawning of the day. It was 
fortunate at least for these poor creatures that the 
heaven above their heads was clear. 

Such were the circumstances of this great religious 
festival, of which I heard the remark, even from French- 
men themselves, who in no part of the country can be 
strangers to the rites and ceremonies of their creed, 
that the inhabitants of their own native towns had not 
the remotest conception of the existence still in France 
of such unwonted usages. It was an exhibition cer- 
tainly of the middle ages, with superstition not a whit 
inferior to that of former times. 

Yet, with all this ignorance and strange credulity, it 
was impossible to deny respect to the motives of those 
unenlightened people, who had made that weary pil- 
grimage in the fulness of their implicit faith. It is at 
the door of those who could succeed in deceiving the 



Reflections on the Pardon. 121 

world by an assumption of the power to accord in- 
dulgences that the obloquy must be laid. 

(i The peasants in this part of the country/' remarked 
the driver of a public vehicle to me one day, " are all 
of them devout. At noon they will be working in the 
fields like other people ; but no sooner do they catch 
the sound of the Angelus from the belfry of the village 
church than they will hurry to the shelter of some 
hedge or ditch, and repeat their customary prayers for 
that portion of the day." 

But with the people of Brittany devotion and super- 
stition are inseparably linked, and the former without 
the latter would be shorn perhaps in a measure of its 
force ; and the pleasurable excitement of a fete or Par- 
don is so firmly interwoven with their religious ideas, 
that an observance of these customs would seem to be 
almost indispensable to their creed. By these certainly 
the priests of the province contrive to retain a wonderful 
hold over their unenlightened minds : a deduction at 
which we can scarcely fail to arrive when we hear of a 
peasant being granted the conspicuous honour of help- 
ing to bear the brazen bust of a departed Pope in a 
grand procession, in consideration of his having made 
an offering of a hundred francs at the Virgin's shrine. 

It is difficult to imagine how a Breton would exist 
were he to emigrate from his beloved province to a 
distant land. He could scarcely have anything in 
common with the inhabitants of his adopted country, 
and he would deeply feel the want of those religious 
fetes which are now one of the necessaries of his life. 
Being two centuries at least, in his habits and the de- 
velopment of his ideas, behind the condition of most of 
the Northern European nations, he would find himself 
an isolated being, and would have, as it were, to begin 



12 2 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



an entirely new existence, and slowly to emerge from 
the infancy of his established modes of thought. 
Rather, perhaps, he would pine away, and finding 
existence in his new position an impossibility, would 
return to end his days amid the bare sufficiency of his 
own native plains. So attached, indeed, is the Breton 
to his country, that until quite recently it was found 
impossible to levy the conscription accurately amongst 
some of the wilder districts of the province. I was told 
that attempted compulsion was really in many instances 
ineffectual, for the peasants resolutely refused to go. 
Means, however, are now being taken to civilise these 
savage people, and a greater strictness in the method of 
conscription is, it must be presumed, enforced. 

I did not hear what was done with the enormous 
sums of money collected annually at Guingamp during 
this imposing fete ; though at the present time, large as 
it is, relatively, considering the sources from whence it 
is drawn, it would not more than pay for the restora- 
tion of the church. One man assured me that if the 
aggregate of that which had ever been offered on these 
occasions were laid together, it would be more than 
sufficient to cover the entire edifice with gold. 

Though it cannot be for an instant doubted that those 
who actually come from far as pilgrims identify in the 
main the notion of religion with the fete itself, yet it 
was also said that the Pardon, in its obvious and literal 
signification, would have been much more appropriately 
accorded to many of the people on the subsequent day. 
It would, however, only be surprising if, in such a vast 
concourse, no occasion were to be found for some similar 
remark. The guests at the hotel, many of whom were 
commercial travellers from other parts of France, made 
a point of sneering at the ceremony, as a general 



The Grand Mass. 



123 



rule. I heard one of these men observe, that he had 
kept on his hat during the progress of the procession. 
This act of disrespect being observed by a priest, the 
latter stopped, and frowned at the delinquent, in order 
to try and induce him to pay deference to the sacred 
rite. "However," he continued, "when the image of 
the Saviour came round, I, of course, immediately un- 
covered. Why should I have done so all the time the 
procession was defiling past ? I was determined not to 
be ordered about by that officious priest." 

This incident, therefore, shows that it is not so 
much the devotional as the superstitious portion of 
the fete at which the more educated revolt, and that 
the feeling is in a great measure generated by an an- 
tipathy to that bondage in which the people are so 
strictly held by the credulity or mistaken ardour of the 
priests. 

On the Sunday morning the crowd was even denser 
than it had been the day before, and the street was 
almost impassable at half-past nine o'clock. Yet all 
the pilgrims, without exception, had taken their de- 
parture as mysteriously as they came ; for during the 
whole dav not a single strange costume was to be seen. 
The usual Grand Mass at ten o'clock was thronged to 
that extent that there was not even standing-room 
within the church, and hundreds of people at every 
door were listening to it eagerly from outside ; and 
even ladies were seated upon stools, with no other shelter 
from the burning sun than their open parasols. 

One of the servants of the hotel had informed me 
that there was a Protestant chapel at Guingamp, which, 
however, in this stronghold of the established faith, I 
had rather wondered at. Inquiring the way to it at a 
bookseller's shop, the woman over the counter declared, 



124 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



in a somewhat thankful tone, that there was but one 
church, and that a Catholic, in the town. 

Both fairs alike, as far as could be judged from a 
passing glance, seemed to be kept up uninterruptedly 
with equal spirit as on the day before ; for the place of 
the pilgrims must have been more than supplied by the 
labouring people of the vicinity, who, from their ordi- 
nary avocations, had been unable to join in the festivi- 
ties of the week. And thus ended, on a calm and 
beautiful summer's evening, the concluding portion of 
this extraordinary fete. 



CHAPTER X. 



Departure from G-uingamp. — A One-handed Driver. — Lannion. — 
Crypt under the Church. — Perros Guirec : its Inn. — The Notary. 
— Cheap Living. — Kegion of Stones. — St. Anne. — The Kocking 
Stone. — Plououmanha. — The Lighthouse. — A Breton Eegent 
Street. — Laclartee. — The Orphan of Lannion. 

N the Monday morning every one seemed 
anxious to be hurrying out of the town as 
quickly as lie could. I had spoken to the 
Lannion courier of the possibility of my requiring a 
seat in his conveyance, a vehicle which accommodated 
only two or three people, and which was to start about 
eleven o'clock. I found, however, that a commercial 
traveller, one of a numerous class whose importance is 
duly appreciated by carmen, had subsequently asked, 
on account of the size and weight of his luggage, not 
to say of his own person, to have the carriage entirely 
to himself. The driver, feeling some slight compunc- 
tion, which was quite gratuitous, as I had made no 
actual arrangement with him, came up with a sort of 
apologetic air, and said to me, in a consoling manner, 
" The gentleman who is coming in my voiture would 
not like to put you to inconvenience by the luggage he 
carries with him, so I think it will be much more 
comfortable for you to go by the diligence at four 
o'clock." There was nothing else to do, of course, than 
quietly to wait ; but just at the last moment a serious 
misunderstanding between the allies took place, and 




126 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



the commercial traveller, seeing my predicament, at 
once made overtures to me to hire a vehicle, and, in 
consideration of his numerous effects, to proportionate 
the expense. 

As I looked to nothing but my own convenience in 
this matter, I accepted his proposal, and in three- 
quarters of an hour the conveyance was ready for us to 
start. The discarded courier was now in a terrible rage 
with both of us, but especially with myself, for refusing 
at his own extremity to close in with an interested offer, 
and accommodate myself to his emergencies. I, however, 
took no notice of his violent fuming, but endeavoured to 
become in as good humour with my new acquaintance 
as I could. He was evidently not one to be taken on 
the blind side, and very well knew what was what ; for, 
previous to starting, he fired off a parting volley at the 
landlord, and told him not to try and effect the " grand 
seigneur " as he really felt so much inclined to do. 
The whole affair was amusing, but I was strictly 
neutral. 

The scenery through which we passed was rural, and 
wooded the whole way. Not so pleasant certainly was 
our driver, for he had the misfortune to possess only 
one hand, and had no more control over his horses than 
a child of eight years old. One of them, indeed, to 
begin with, fell down in the street on starting, and 
they were a constant source of anxiety throughout. 
Though the vehicle was a good one, the tackling of 
ropes was primitive, and the animals were generally 
about three feet apart, one pulling one way, and one 
the other, each of them at the same time struggling to 
compel the vehicle to his own lawful side. 

As the man was only able, from his condition, to 
reason with them singly, we were compelled to make a 



Hotel at Lannion. 



127 



sort of zigzag course, and he would have succeeded 
admirably in overturning both carriage and occupants 
down one of the steepest hills of which horse and driver 
have ever made descent, had I not insisted on his get- 
ting out to walk, and leading one of the animals with 
his able hand. Even the stout commercial traveller, 
who had hitherto looked on phlegmatically at one or 
two of our very awkward predicaments, now took the 
alarm in earnest, and for the better security of life and 
limb, thought it not inconsistent with his dignity to 
alight. 

We reached Lannion about three o'clock, and drove 
into the courtyard of the Hotel de 1' Europe, my com- 
panion hurrying away as fast as he could after settling 
his own score with the driver, though, when I myself 
came up for the same purpose, I found that he had for- 
gotten the rules of proportion previously agreed upon. 
The sum, however, wasn't enough to quarrel about, nor 
did it appear to be worth while pursuing him. Never- 
theless, it proved that for the future one's dealings with 
travellers must be made as accurately beforehand as 
with drivers themselves. The man, perhaps, would 
have been somewhat astonished if, by way of a reminder, 
I had taken up one of his valuable boxes to my room as 
a pledge and hostage for the delinquent franc. 

The hotel was as clean and comfortable as any in 
Brittany, and had a pleasant little garden at the back ; 
the mile d manger was hung round entirely with tapes- 
try ; and the rooms on the first floor were worthy of any 
English house. As for the town, the impression it 
would make on a stranger is that it is scarcely lively 
enough to be agreeable, nor are the streets sufficiently 
important, or the shops good enough, to make it in- 
teresting. 



128 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



It boasts, however, of an extensive convent, and has 
a glorious old bridge, together with one or two very 
quaint-looking houses in the market-place, with elabo- 
rately-carved timber fronts. On the summit of a hill 
at the outskirt of the town, and which, in fact, is a sort 
of suburb, stands an ancient, and, as to the interior, a 
rather handsome village church, which is reached by a 
lofty flight of broken steps. The view from the terrace 
of the valley beneath it, with the full moon shining on 
the roofs of the houses, was extremely beautiful. Under 
the choir of the church is a curious crypt or chapel. 
Descending into it in the dim and uncertain light, I 
was for an instant somewhat startled by the appearance 
of four life-size figures in white, grouped within the 
precincts of an altar, two of them in an upright posture, 
as though they were weeping, and the others on their 
knees in prayer. 

Their aspect was so true and natural, that I took 
them at first for living objects, and I was afraid I had 
intruded on some exercise of devotion in which they 
were engaged. It was only by their continuing fixed 
and motionless that I at last understood their real 
meaning. It was the Virgin and disciples bewailing 
over the body of the recumbent Christ. These statues 
possibly, when exposed to fuller scrutiny in the open 
mid- day and in upper air, might have appeared less 
truthful ; but shrouded in the mysticism of the waning 
light, they were natural and lifelike in the extreme. 

There was an old bookseller at Lannion, to whom I 
had applied for information about the principal objects 
which were to be seen in the neighbourhood. He at 
once recommended Perros Guirec, on the coast, about 
six miles distant in a northerly direction, near which 
he said were some very curious stones and Druidical 



Perros Gtctrec. 



129 



remains. Accordingly, I set out on foot in the evening 
with a few necessary articles in a fishing-basket, leaving 
the remainder of my baggage at the hotel. There was 
nothing very noticeable on the road, which might have 
been called, perhaps, somewhat tame. I reached Perros 
about sunset. It is a small village in the middle of a 
bay, with a neat little granite pier : the water, how- 
ever, goes out so far that it is left perfectly dry at the 
ebbing of the tide, and then Perros looks exceedingly 
forlorn. The hotel was primitive, but clean. The 
people here take their meals somewhat differently from 
those in towns. 

They have coffee and bread and butter in the morn- 
ing at eight o'clock, a repast at noon, which goes by 
the name of dinner, and another substantial meal in 
the evening, which they call supper. Sitting down 
that night about half-past eight to what, doubtless, 
would have been called a table d'hote, I perceived a 
grave and quaint-looking man seated next to me, 
whom, by his doing the honours of the house, I took 
to be the landlord of the hotel. The first dish handed 
round to us was vegetable soup, and the next, as the 
guests were limited in number, was a plate of three 
mutton chops, the most tiny and toy-like articles 
which had ever yet been severed from the body of a 
sheep ; they were for all the world like their sham 
representatives which are seen in the kitchen of a large 
doll's house. To say that there was a good mouthful 
on the mimic bone was saying a great deal, for a 
roasted sparrow succeeding them would have been the 
most appropriate dish. Their dimensions, indeed, had 
a most ludicrous effect, which was all the more trying 
on account of the impression that the solemn indivi- 
dual with the stiff moustache, and the hair erect and 



130 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



wiry, was no less a personage than the master of the 
hotel. 

Had he been only a guest, his face would surely have 
caught the inevitable smile, which it was utterly im- 
possible to suppress ; and I was in fear and trembling 
lest, when endeavouring to speak, there should be a 
failure of the voice, for the silence was appalling. He 
turned out, however, in the end, to be the village 
notary; and this, unfortunately, gave him the privi- 
lege of making use incessantly of the freedom of 
America with the dining-room floor — a custom which 
does not tend to whet the appetite. I had attempted, 
certainly, at first to say something which might give 
the conversation a lively turn, in order to yield him an 
, excuse to relax; but he looked so solemn, notwith- 
standing his appearance was so extremely comical, that 
he could proceed no further than qualify his mono- 
syllables with a most ghastly smile. In a few minutes, 
however, when the chops were out of sight, and I had 
become accustomed to these unwonted habits, I was 
able to extract some useful information from him on 
the subject of Perros Guirec and its neighbourhood. 

" For how much do you think a horse could be kept 
here ? " I inquired. 

" Why/' said the notary, " if you employed a boy to 
look after him, the expense of his wages and of the 
animal's keep would amount to about two hundred 
francs a year." 

Eight pounds a year for the keep of a horse and the 
payment of a groom ! The inhabitants of our English 
towns, when making up an estimate of their yearly 
expenditure, should it, alas ! very much exceed this 
sum, ought not, perhaps, to be too harshly judged if 
one stray thought of envy escape from the inmost re- 



A Cheap Locality. 



131 



cesses of their hearts as they picture to their minds 
the blissful condition of the inhabitants of Perros 
Gruirec. 

But two hundred francs per annum would have been 
an extravagantly high sum even for such a great public 
personage as the notary ; and it was at the pleasing 
figure of nothing a year that he maintained both groom 
and horse ; for by placing out the latter to board and 
lodge in the stall of a neighbouring farmer, the animal 
paid his own expenses, no less by his occasional labour, 
when unemployed by his master, than by that which 
was of equal importance, the accumulated refuse of the 
stable. As might be expected, therefore, provisions in 
Perros were proportionately cheap : meat fourpence a 
pound, eggs the same price per dozen, butter fifteen 
sous, whilst two young chickens were obtainable for a 
franc. I inquired if there were any English people 
resident in the neighbourhood, and was informed that 
there was one solitary individual, a bachelor, who had 
been there nearly twenty years. He lived by, and kept 
entirely to, himself, and seldom admitted a soul within 
his house, though certainly, indeed, the notary recol- 
lected his having once been asked to breakfast, but that 
was many, many years ago. 

It is probable, however, to all whom it may concern, 
that provisions w r ill soon be rising considerably higher 
in price, for there is now a large trade going on with 
ships from the English coast, which carry off all the 
poultry, butter, meat, and eggs. The people here com- 
plained bitterly of this ; and I saw a South Devonshire 
trading-boat in the harbour, preparing to run off with 
no light cargo of the good things of Perros. 

On the morning after my arrival I set out for Plou- 
oumanha, the region of the wild sea-coast, having 



132 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



previously walked to tlie promontory which overlooks 
the village, from which there is a lovely view of the 
surrounding bay and neighbouring cliffs. It was a very 
hot day. About three or four miles off is an island 
inhabited by a family who cultivate a farm, and who, 
during the heat of summer, are obliged to procure their 
supply of water from the main-land. Having sur- 
mounted the first of the hills which must be ascended 
before reaching Plououmanha, I came suddenly in sight 
of a village school, all the members of which, both 
mistress and scholars, were seated on the ground round 
the school-house, basking in the sun. Of the good- 
natured mistress, who was employed in knitting, I 
inquired my way. She was almost one of the last 
of the inhabitants in this direction who to a stranger 
could make herself understood. She directed me to 
descend the hill, keep along the bay, and then make 
another steep ascent at its extremity. Here I came to 
the poor and miserable hamlet of Laclartee, where was 
a granite church, with a good tower and spire, and 
which had evidently once been a handsome building, 
though now one of the doors and many of the windows 
were blocked up. 

Being anxious to see the rocking- stone which was in 
the neighbourhood, I again inquired the route of a 
woman who spoke one or two words of French. She 
advised me to keep along by a certain windmill, and 
to pass a second, until I came to the Chapel of St. 
Anne, where any one, she said, would direct me to the 
pierre tremblante. Seeing at this elevation the entire 
plain, for an almost infinite distance, lying at my feet, 
I thought I should be able to follow her instructions 
tolerably well ; but when once I had descended the hill 
and got into the plain itself, I found I had by no means 



A Region of Rocks. 



133 



an easy task, for my course lay through, a wilderness of 
gigantic stones and rocks of every possible size and 
shape, and I began to think I should never arrive at 
the required spot, when at length, by a piece of good 
fortune, I came up to a cluster of houses, in front of 
which some five or six women were at work. They 
could understand nothing but Breton, though after a 
while, on my repeatedly making the sign of a rocking 
stone, they pointed out the direction in which it lay. 

Here, in the midst of this savage place, was quite a 
little oasis of verdure — some trees, some shrubs, a tiny 
stream, and a nice shaded path by its side. It was 
quite worth missing my way (for I found I had done 
so) to have fallen in with it thus by chance. I con- 
tinued my route again for some time through a mono- 
tonous forest of gigantic stones, until at length I really 
began quite to despair of ever finding what I sought. 
There was literally nothing whatever to direct me in 
this interminable waste, where for miles, on every side, 
these mystic rocks were strewed marvellously about, 
and where, far in the distance, might have been per- 
ceived half-a-dozen at least of petrified heads resting 
upon mammoth shoulders, every one of which was a 
likely looking stone. 

But now again, for the second time, I arrived at a 
cluster of houses, a wretched, desolate, secluded hamlet, 
where I attempted in vain to ascertain my way. The 
women evidently could speak nothing but the language 
of the country, and seemed never to have heard of the 
pierre tremblante, for they only shook their heads stupidly 
when I made the sign. There was still, nevertheless, 
the hamlet of St. Anne in my favour, and I accordingly 
muttered the name with an inquiring look. " Yaw," 
replied the women, with an unmeaning laugh, without 



134 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



even a thought of indicating the direction in which it 
lay. " St. Anne ! " I therefore again repeated, point- 
ing with my finger to the west, and " Yaw " again 
responded the trio, with a most tantalising grunt. 
" St. Anne ! " as a last attempt I shouted, with yet 
greater energy than before, this time with my finger to 
the north, and " Yaw " they once more answered, as 
they laughed outright. 

In utter despair I lifted up my hands and hastened 
off, and, in a few minutes, most fortunately came up to 
another cottage, where I found a woman who had seen 
something of the world, having once been in service, 
and who was able easily to converse. Though she had 
never visited the rocking- stone herself, yet she thought 
she had heard of it, and she accordingly went to look 
for some one who would direct me to the place. Com- 
municating forthwith with an old woman, the latter 
shouted out to her son, who was working somewhere in 
a sandy field, and with him as guide I walked on a 
short distance to the required spot. 

After a while, when the intricacy was over, he 
directed me to cross a small bay, which was lying on 
our right, and pointed out the rocking-stone on the 
side of a hill about a mile in front. Everywhere still, 
north, south, east, and west, lay the same gigantic 
stones, of every imaginable size and shape. Crossing 
the bay, after a quarter of an hour's walk, I came at 
last to the long-sought hamlet of St. Anne. Just out- 
side the precincts was a refreshing fountain of ice-cold 
water, and, presiding over the spring, stood the image 
of the Virgin in a sacred nook. The chapel was small 
and primitive, exactly suited to this savage place. It 
was a tiny building, scarcely twenty feet in length, with 
two little windows and a door. Near it was a tolerably 



A Wild Scene. 



135 



good farm-house, and on the hill overlooking it a pile 
of rocks, amongst which was the desired stone. 

Had I been left to myself I should certainly have 
mistaken it, for near it was another gigantic block rest- 
ing lightly on its base, like a head upon shoulders, 
which had much more the appearance of a rocking-stone 
than the one which moved. The latter, notwithstand- 
ing, was an enormous mass, and the boy from the farm- 
house, who guided me, moved it without the slightest 
difficulty, as I did likewise subsequently myself. It 
would have been difficult to make an estimate of its size 
in tons, but speaking roughly from recollection, it could 
not have been stowed away in a cubic chamber whose 
sides measured less than ten or eleven feet. 

The view from this spot was strangely wild, and yet 
withal of the most picturesque interest — it might, in- 
deed, almost have been said, of grandeur. It was rocks, 
rocks, rocks, everywhere around. The Church of La- 
clartee, on the opposite hill, which had been passed 
nearly two hours before, would, but for its spire, have 
seemed here in the distance to have been merely stone 
of more elaborate shape. This rugged region, washed 
by the interminable ocean, would have been a fitting 
spot for a Finistere to the inhabitants of the ancient 
world. 

It would take too much space to describe the re- 
mainder of the journey : the crossing a deep creek in 
one of a large fleet of fishing-boats ; the rude granite 
altar on a rock in the sea y containing a figure of the 
Virgin — to the fishermen of that wild and desolate spot 
no less a beacon for their frail craft when wandering on 
the ocean than a monument of their simple faith. A 
lighthouse, standing on the edge of a promontory, and 
connected with the main ledge of rocks by a granite 



136 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



bridge, was the goal — still always over giant boulders 
— for which at length I steered, and one of the most 
romantic sights imaginable on this iron coast. 

My homeward course again lay through the scattered 
hamlet of Plououmanha, where appeared a troop of 
strange-looking children, whose costumes were in per- 
fect harmony with the wildness of the scene. One of 
them wore a gown which had once belonged to a girl 
of double her age, and was now sweeping the ground in 
a most ludicrous fashion; another had a huge coal- 
scuttle bonnet on her head, protruding out far over her 
face, it being the principal portion of her attire ; and 
there was some salient and comical feature about them 
all. The Regent Street of the hamlet was not a whit 
more inviting. It had hovels on one side, and pigsties 
on the other. Yet, as if in contrast to such a state of 
poverty and wretchedness, the unsophisticated people 
of this most primitive place might have been in almost 
immediate communication with their own antipodes in 
refinement. The line of telegraph seems now to be 
universally established, even in the most secluded dis- 
tricts, and you appear to follow the course of the wires 
almost everywhere you go. 

The village of Laclartee was only one degree superior 
to the hamlet of Plououmanha. The view of the stony 
region from the latter spot cannot give any adequate 
idea of the actual condition of that extended waste ; for, 
looking down upon it now from an eminence, it is 
nothing like as imposing as when you stand in the 
midst of its huge granite blocks. Obtaining here the 
keys of the parish church, a hasty glance showed that 
it had once possessed some very good specimens of 
sculpture and a handsome porch. It was nearly eight 
o'clock when I arrived at Perros, and I descried in the 



The Orphan of Lannion. 



137 



distance, at the door of the hotel, the outline of the 
domestic who was waiting to serve up supper, recon- 
noitring impatiently at the front door. 



L'OBPHELINE DE LANNION. 



Whekefoee lies Lannion in the garb of grief? 

Lannion the bright, the river-girt, the fair : 
Wherefore ? Than what so fearful late befell, 

Could maiden ne'er more terrible befall, 

Of all the comely daughters, near or far, 
More comely who than gentle Annik erst ? 

Honour'd alike by mistress and by guest, 
Mingling the round of yonder busy inn. 

But woe is darkening o'er her kindly home : 
At fall of night two boon companions there, 

And evil- eyed, to eat and drink who come, 
Join in lewd talk and avaricious game. 

Fed to the full, with sinister intent, 

Home to be led they make the loud request, 

With gait uncertain through the chamber reel, 
And claim the service of the modest girl. 

Now Annik' s mistress dare not say them nay ; 

Eeluctant half, but all too weak, she yields, 
Calls the poor child the errand to fulfil, 

And puts a lantern in her timid hand. 

Scarce on the way, their evil purpose leaks : 

" Why such a glare ? Extinguish this bright light." 

" Sirs, as you will," the affrighted maid exclaims, 
" But at this hour all honest people sleep." 

Again they silence break : ' ' Come, Annik, come, 
Our home o'erflows with wine of divers sort." 

" Sirs, of such cheer there is no need to me ; 
At mine I drink, not stinted of the best." 



138 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



Trembling she speaks : alas ! no friendly light 
From watchful house gleams out to reassure : 

With ill design they whisper in low tone, 
Till the sweet girl gives way to bitter tears. 

" Pure are my thoughts, my calling ye mistake : 

I pray you, sirs, do no such evil thing : 
Betray me rather to the chilly deep, 

Or let me down some humid grave to die." 

'Tis late ; her mistress has a tender heart : 
From tower and steeple ring the midnight chime : 

" Quick search the streets, quick search : " but search is vain, 
The good child Annik never shall return. 

Yeil the sad scene : she silent lies in death, 

Hard by the bridge, the lantern at her side. 
Tranquil thy slumbers, gentle Annik, be, 

Fairest and best of Lannion's daughters, thou ! 



CHAPTER XI. 




Leave Perros. — Granite Calvaires. — The Travelling Tinker. — Cap- 
tain H. — Treguier. — A Hopeful Youth. — Description of the Town. 
— St. Yves : his Miracles. — Enthusiastic Bretons. — Convent. — 
The Lady Abbess. — A Novitiate. — La Roche Derrien. — An Un- 
shaven Priest. — Return to Lannion. 

N the following morning I set out after break- 
fast for the old cathedral town of Treguier. I 
was not long in losing sight of the coast be- 
neath me, and then the road becarUe uninteresting and 
dull. At one of the villages — Ooatreven — through 
which I passed there was a beautiful new granite cross 
on a fine pedestal, quite a work of art. I noticed several 
of these, of most elaborate design, in various parts of the 
province from time to time. To one of them had been 
awarded a prize at a public exhibition. They were quite 
different from those hideous calvaires w T hich formerly 
overran the country, and a few of which, the same 
probably which survived the Revolution, are still here 
and there to be seen. Such a multitude of these were 
destroyed at that period, that several modern writers 
mention the cost of their restoration in Finistere alone 
would have been no less than a million and a half of 
francs. This is, indeed, not at all surprising when we 
consider that a certain Bishop of Leon, Holland de 
Neuville, in the course of his episcopate, erected up- 
wards of five thousand within the precincts of his 
diocese. 

At this little village of Coatreven was an inn, the 



140 The Pardon of Gzcingamp. 

inscription over the door of which was certainly a wise 
one : " Credit est mort, tue par les mauvais payeurs." 
From thence I walked on till I came to a place where 
the road to La Roche Derrien branched off. Just be- 
yond this spot I overtook a man with a heavy load at his 
back, who seemed a likely subject to be well informed. 
I accosted him. He told me he was a travelling tinker, 
and was on his way to Treguier. On discovering 
that I was an Englishman, in answer to the inquiry 
of where I came from (for a Breton is not so alive to a 
want of perfect fluency as a Frenchman), he assumed, as 
a matter of course, that I must be acquainted with all 
my fellow-countrymen in the province, and at the very 
least with the three who resided in the neighbouring 
town. " Capitaine H. est un grand camarade a moi," 
said he in his own peculiar French ; " he is a great 
fisherman ; I very often go out with him ; I have no 
difficulty in making rods and flies/ ' 

Monsieur F., another Englishman at Treguier, was 
likewise, he said, one of his grands camarades ; and he 
had, moreover, a grand camarade at Dinan, in the person 
of another English captain, with whom he used also 
frequently to go out and fish. My new acquaintance 
seemed certainly a most staunch disciple of old Izaak, 
and was evidently one of those honest, good-natured 
men who make their way wherever they go, and with- 
out the vulgarity common to his craft. He, not un- 
naturally, gathered by my fishing-basket the purpose 
for which I had come, and he offered me on the morrow 
a good day's sport. He was not a little surprised to 
hear that I should not have time enough for fishing, but 
he said he must certainly introduce me to his friend the 
captain on our arrival at Treguier. After conversing 
for some little time we came up to an inn, into which 



Meeting Captain H. 



141 



my new acquaintance proposed to enter for refreshment, 
I soon found he had done so chiefly on my account, for, 
with true Breton politeness, he wanted to treat me to 
some bottled beer, though I of course reversed the 
order of things and paid the score myself. 

A few miles from Treguier the spire of the cathedral 
broke in upon our view, and when within a short dis- 
tance of the town, a cabriolet passed us on the road. 
" Ah, le voila !" exclaimed the travelling tinker as he 
caught sight of it ; " voila le Capitaine H." Accord- 
ingly, he shouted out to the captain to stop, upon which 
the vehicle drew up, and one of the occupants imme- 
diately came out. The latter, after talking to his friend 
the tinker for a few moments, introduced himself to me 
as a fellow-countryman, and said it was quite a satis- 
faction to see an English face. The captain himself 
was unmistakably British. He was dressed in a light- 
blue yachting-coat, a fishing-basket was slung at his 
side, and his hat was adorned all round with flies and 
hooks. He had lived at Treguier about a twelvemonth, 
and was now just returning from Lannion, to which 
place he not unfrequently walked in a day. He informed 
me that our mutual acquaintance, the travelling tinker 
(who now, poor man, was allowed to fall back behind), 
was a very good-natured individual, and that he earned 
first-rate wages, but by this invariable pleasing quality, 
and his always insisting upon treating his friends, he 
kept himself continually poor. The captain, who was 
tall and light, oblivious thus that his friend carried 
weight, soon left him in the distance, so that for 
civility's sake I was obliged to stop for a few minutes 
to allow him to come up to us, when I wished him good 
afternoon. We then continued at an ordinary pace 
till we reached the town, the captain accompanying me 



142 • The Pardon of Guingamp. 

to the door of the hotel, and politely offering to give 
me any information I required. 

No sooner was I installed in a large and comfortable 
room than I heard a knock at the door, when a 
clownish-looking fellow in the person of the boots 
answered to my call of "Who's there?" He had 
come ostensibly to know whether I had everything I 
required, but he had clearly a partiality for English 
people, and on my inquiring whether there were any at 
the hotel, he informed me I was the first that year. 
There had been several, however, the previous summer : 
a gentleman with his wife and eight children had 
remained at the house. 

" Seven of them," said he, " slept in this room ; the 
eldest young gentleman used to be about with me all 
the day, and helped me to shell the peas. What a boy 
he was for cider ! He used always, however, to put 
something stronger into it. If at any time I pressed 
him to take some coffee, his answer was invariably that 
he preferred the cider ; then suiting the action to the 
word, he'd take some, and would call for brandy to put 
into the cup. There was also a Pretre Anglais here 
last year. One of the servants of the hotel happened 
to be married the very day he came. Several other 
English people were likewise in the house, and we had 
a dance in the evening. When the Pretre Anglais was 
joining in with the rest, I pretended to be tipsy, and 
began reeling about the room. ' Blaggar ! ' said the 
Pretre Anglais with a stern look ; and ' Blaggar ! 9 in 
imitation of him, I repeated as I went along ; and then 
at last the Pretre Anglais was obliged to laugh." 

" But you oughtn't to get drunk," I said ; " it's a bad 
habit ; it makes you like a beast." 

" Oh, it takes a great deal to make me drunk ! " he 



Description of Treguier. 



143 



retorted ; " I can drink any amount of brandy, but it's 
the cider which has such a wonderful effect; two or 
three chopines will finish me." 

I told him he ought to avoid it if it really had that 
effect ; but it was evident this hopeful youth had con- 
ceived too strong a predilection for it to be easily con- 
vinced; and he would have gone on gossiping for an 
hour, had I not given him a hint that he might go below. 

Treguier is a neat, quiet little town, of about 3,500 
inhabitants, and is situated on a broad river or arm of 
the sea, about six or seven miles from the mouth. 
Evervwhere are apparent signs of former importance, 
but of decayed splendour. The original Episcopal 
Palace is now a granary, or at any rate has been con- 
verted to some similar use. There is still a sculptured 
stone over the portal, and a circular stone staircase 
running all the way np. The more recent palace 
stands on one side of the cathedral, in the form of a 
courtyard, but is cold and gloomy, and of no particular 
style of architecture. It is now a residence for the 
priests, the episcopal seat having been transferred to 
St. Brieuc. The cathedral itself, though not extremely 
large, is a handsome and imposing structure. It is 
dedicated to St. Tugdual, and the building as it stands 
may be referred to the fourteenth century. Its length 
forms one side of a nice little square or Place, which is 
the principal portion of the town. The street in which 
the hotel is situated, and probably the house itself, were 
once inhabited by people of the first importance, for, 
besides the Episcopal Palace, a building is pointed out 
which was once the residence of Duke John III. 

Everywhere are high walls, enclosing pleasant gar- 
dens, above the level of which rises some shady lime, or 
vine, or fig tree, overlooking the street below. There 



144 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



is especially one extensive garden outside tlie town, 
once a convent, entirely surrounded by a stone wall, 
whose circuit cannot be less than half a mile. The 
whole place, in fact, seems a city of lofty walls, antique 
portals, delicious gardens, and ruined convents — a 
town of bygone ages, quiet, dull, and dreamy ; and the 
reason why, though only half as populous as Lannion, 
it seems almost as extensive, is owing to the fact of so 
much space being taken up by these tempting gardens 
enclosed by lofty walls. 

About a mile outside the town is the chapel dedicated 
to St. Yves, one of the most celebrated of the numerous 
Breton saints. At a farm-house close by, which, how- 
ever, is called the Manor of Kermartin, and belongs 
to the family of De Quelen, is shown the bed once 
occupied by the holy man. It is one of the usual 
close cupboards of the country, and bears at any rate 
the appearance of great age. 

The chapel in question is an object of veneration on 
account of the celebrity of its patron saint. Yvon 
Helori was born at the Manor of Kermartin in the 
year 1253. He studied at Paris and Orleans, and 
was well versed in civil and canonical law, becoming 
eventually ecclesiastical judge, first at Rennes and 
afterwards at Treguier. He subsequently entered the 
Church, and preached three or four times a day in 
Latin, French, and Breton. He is called the patron of 
lawyers, and died in 1303. It is said that at the 
church in Paris which was once under his invocation 
the following lines were sung every year at his funeral 
mass : — 

" Sanctus Yvo erat Brito, 
Advocatus, sed non latro ; 
Ees miranda populo !" 



Breton Miracles. 



145 



Endless miracles are reported to have been worked at 
his tomb. As instances, no less of these than of others 
which were performed at the instigation of the saint 
himself while living, the following will suffice. It 
would not, perhaps, have been worth while introducing 
them, had they not all been sworn to by witnesses 
before the Ecclesiastical Commissioners, and had not a 
learned advocate, in this the nineteenth century, devoted 
a goodly volume of three or four hundred pages to the 
serious enumeration of the miracles of this venerated 
saint. 

On one occasion a violent fire was consuming the 
house of one of the parishioners of Louannec, when 
St. Yves, making the sign of the cross and invoking the 
assistance of the Trinity, arrested at once the ravages 
of the flames by the material aid alone of one or two 
drops of milk. 

On another occasion, when walking with his servant, 
Hamon Leber, he had to pass the river Leff, when to 
his surprise he found the bridge which spanned it com- 
pletely under water. St. Yves, nevertheless, entered 
the stream, but the force . of the current had made two 
such formidable holes in the structure that he could 
not have attempted the passage except at the most 
imminent danger to his life. However, taking his 
servant by the hand, he made the sign of the cross 
over the waters, which at once divided, and left clear 
the entrance of the bridge. He ventured, therefore, 
fearlessly on his way, and making the sign of the cross 
again at the other extremity, found himself in safety on 
the opposite bank. No sooner was this accomplished 
than the river once more assumed its former swollen 
aspect, and the waters rushed back upon the bridge, 
when the servant of St. Yves, stupefied and astonished, 

L 



146 The Pardon of Gain gamp. 



confessed the presence of the Divine Being with his 
saintly master, and that He worked such miracles in 
his behalf. 

In 1301 a certain Yves de Kerguezonet, of Coa- 
treven, at his own risk and cost, had taken upon 
himself the construction of the bridge of Ars, formerly 
Ar-pont-Losquet, between Treguier and Lannion. The 
carpenters, however, whom he had employed were so 
ignorant and unskilful, that each of the beams which 
had been prepared for the work, when measured four 
or five times, was found too short by at least a foot and 
a half, and utterly useless for the construction of the 
bridge. The contractor, thus seeing himself a ruined 
man, was scolding the workmen, and lamenting over 
his loss, when a happy chance directed him into the 
presence of the saint, who immediately took pity on his 
hapless fate. He at once began earnestly to address 
his supplications to Heaven, and then after a while 
proceeded to the measurement of the wood, when the 
whole of it was found longer by the addition of 
nearly two feet. This miracle was performed under 
the eyes of several people. Some of them, indeed, were 
dead at the time of the inquiry ; but Henri de Kergue- 
zonet, priest, son of the contractor, and Oliver Le 
Teriat of Treguier, both eye-witnesses, attested solemnly 
to the truth of the above report. 

The year of St. Yves' death, a young man of the 
name of D' Alain, of the parish of Prat, died at three 
o'clock in the afternoon, of a fever of eight days' dura- 
tion. After his decease he bled profusely, and was as 
cold as ice. He was laid out in his shroud ; his eyes 
were closed; and the widow, in an agony at the loss of 
her only son, fell upon her knees and made an invoca- ' 
tion in these words : " Oh, St. Yves, I entreat you to 



Breton Miracles. 



147 



restore my son. If you will only raise him from the 
dead, Til make a vow to fast every Wednesday and 
Saturday for the remainder of my life. On Fridays 
I'll go simply on bread and water, and no linen shall 
ever more come near my skin." On the following 
morning two hundred people assembled for the funeral. 
When they were preparing to put him into the coffin, 
the widow saw him suddenly turn and ask for a drop 
of water. He then seated himself upright, and said, 
I Yous m'avez donne un grand travail." 

He rose, says the learned advocate, by the merits of 
St. Yves, and lived for fifteen years after this extraor- 
dinary event. As a souvenir of the miracle, one of his 
nostrils, which had been pressed at the time of his 
death, ever afterwards remained closed. It was his 
mother and two sisters who related the circumstance, 
and before the Apostolical Commissioners attested to the 
fact. 

There is another story, likewise, of a certain woman 
who hurled a curse upon her son by the body which 
bore him and the breast which fed him. He falls into 
incessant fits, and frightful demons present themselves 
to his sight : they are awful to look at, lofty as towers, 
black and horrible, adorned with horns, and having the 
figure of a great he-goat. " You belong to us," they 
exclaim ; " you've been given over to us by your 
mother." But St. Yves appears to him in the dead of 
night, and says to him, " Never mind, young man, you 
bear the same name as myself, and you've made a pil- 
grimage to my tomb ; your mother indeed may have 
given you over to the devil, but in reality she has no 
more power over you than has a sack over the wheat 
which it contains." 

Calmed and comforted by this cheery vision, the 



148 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



young man asks to be conducted to the tomb of the 
saint. As he is brought into the cathedral he falls 
into a new fit, but he now defies these two dreadful 
demons, and cries out to them, " Brigands, begone ! 
I won't go with you ; I'm protected by St. Yves." 

"Enfin," says the Abbe de L'CEuvre, " St. Yves 
pendant sa vie, et depuis sa mort jusqu'a sa canonisa- 
tion, fit tant de miracles, que les prelats commis par le 
Pape declarerent dans le rapport qu'ils en firent a sa 
saintete en plein consistoire, que d'une infinite de pro- 
diges que Dieu avait faits par l'intercession de ce saint, 
pendant sa vie et depuis sa mort, ils s'etoient contentes 
d'en rapporter cent, de peur de trop charger leur proces 
verbal." 

A hundred miracles ! and these only a handful ! But 
Brittany is the land of prodigies and saints. Never- 
theless, out of the four which have been instanced, the 
last two may possibly in the main be strictly true ; for 
there need be nothing very extraordinary in the appear- 
ing of frightful apparitions to the imagination of a per- 
son who is subject to epileptic fits. Nor need the re- 
suscitation of a man from apparent death after a serious 
fever be a matter of such great surprise. Not the least 
miraculous portion of the above-mentioned incident 
seems to be the fact of the young man's mother having 
lived fifteen whole years after the alleged occurrence, 
while fasting rigidly on Wednesdays and Saturdays, 
and going every Friday upon bread and water. But 
the writer does not say whether the widow was ever 
accorded an indulgence in the keeping of her vow. 

At the table d'hote of the hotel at Treguier I con- 
versed with a gentleman who had entered the room in 
company with a young man about the same age, and of 
humble appearance, who might very well have been 



Welsh and Breton. 



149 



taken for his servant but that he seemed too well in- 
formed. Both of them were thorough Bretons. I 
asked the former what he considered the most likely 
neighbourhood in which one of the ancient tragedies 
of the country might be seen, but he told me this 
was not the right season of the year for them. He 
said he had a friend formerly residing at Lannion, an 
Englishman, who could speak the language fluently, 
haying been born in Brittany, and who could act these 
miracle plays to perfection. 

Inquiring whether he thought the Breton tongue 
was dying out, he said it was not, though this is cer- 
tainly a palpable mistake. I then remarked that it 
was an interesting subject, upon which he insisted on 
filling my tumbler with his own wine. Many of the 
Breton ladies of the highest rank, he added, might 
frequently be heard speaking it in the streets. I told 
him I was glad to hear it, for it was really disgraceful 
to be ashamed of one's own language. " I quite agree 
with you," replied both the men with enthusiasm, their 
faces at the same time kindling up with satisfaction ; 
and hereupon they went through the ceremony of 
touching glasses, evidently delighted at the sentiment 
I had expressed. 

He then went on to tell me that he was acquainted 
with a Welsh lady, who was married to a Breton gentle- 
man, and that the language she spoke, and in which 
he himself had often conversed with her, was pure 
Breton, although she had not in any way changed 
it for the language of the country. He likewise 
gave it as his opinion that the Breton was derived 
from the Sanscrit ; upon which I answered, that the 
fact of its Oriental origin was at once apparent from 
the frequency of words and syllables in the Breton 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



tongue identical with others in the East even in the 
present day. 

Before taking my departure, I made an application 
to be allowed to see the interior of one of the yet exten- 
sive convents which exist in Treguier. Entering the 
passage, I rang the bell, and whilst waiting the effect 
of the summons, looked around me in order to catch 
some idea of the nature of the place. As far as it was 
possible to discern, there was nothing at all luxurious 
or inviting, in the approaches at any rate, to the inmost 
recesses of this establishment : the walls had a some- 
what cold and cheerless aspect, nor was there, perhaps, 
much to inspire confidence in the stern and almost 
gloomy sentiments with which they were adorned : — 

" J'ai quitte sans regret le plaisir de la terre, 

Ce ne sont que vrais manx, mensonge et vanite ; 
Contre moi nuit et jour j'ai declare la guerre, 
Pour reposer en paix pendant l'eternite ; " 

which may be rendered thus : — 

Farewell, sweet world, farewell ! no yet sad tear, 

No truant sigh your memory wakes ; too false, too vain, 

Are your best joys : this self- waged warfare here 
Shall soon be o'er : then, then, oh endless gain ! 

Short sentences, likewise, appropriate to the nature of 
the institution, were here and there interspersed : — 

" Craignez et respectez 1' entree de cette solitude." 

And again : — 

" Celui qui veut medire de son prochain, 
Qu'il sache que cette maison le reprouye." 

The following lines were also painted up in another 
part : — 



A Young Recluse. 



" Mondains tristes, jouets de mille passions, 

En touts lieux vous trouvez peines, afflictions : 
Plus heureuses que vous en cette solitude, 
Nous mettons en Dieu seul notre beatitude ; " 

the argument of which may be expressed as follows : — 

Pause ye who'd vaunt the hapless worldling's lot ; 

The sport of passion he, his meed below, 
Afflictions, trials, loss : who court them not, 

Pure joys, sweet peace, diviner hope they know. 

After waiting three or four minutes, a female face of 
about twenty years of age peered through the iron 
grating, its owner at the same time, with a bewitching 
smile, asking me what I required. I told her I should 
esteem it a great favour if I could be permitted to see 
something of the interior of the establishment ; upon 
which she most politely informed me she would go and 
ask the permission of the Lady Superior. This poor 
young recluse lingered over her words, and spoke so 
softly and smilingly, and with such a coquettish air, 
that I could scarcely believe she agreed yet entirely 
with all her heart with the sentiment which was 
inscribed upon the wall — that she had left this vain 
world without one regret, deeming its joys falsehood 
and unmitigated ill ; for of this house which she had 
entered it might literally be said, "They who go in 
shall not return again ;" whilst almost as truly could 
its inmates say, each one of herself, "I shall behold 
man no more with the inhabitants of the earth. " I 
wondered what had induced her thus so early, thus so 
pleasing, to renounce the innocent enjoyments which 
the world affords. Was it indeed her own innate sense, 
as the lines expressed it, of their falsehood and their 
vanity, or was it blighted hope, or the cruel tyranny of 
her friends ? 



152 The Pardon of Giringa7np. 



In a few minutes the same smiling face again re- 
appeared at the iron grating, and with the same 
coquettish air requested me to walk into the waiting- 
room, where the Lady Superior would in a moment 
wait upon me. I passed on to the chamber indicated, 
and presently the abbess herself appeared at the open 
window. She was a middle-aged woman, equally 
polite and affable as the younger one, though the days 
of her coquettishness were past, nor did she linger so 
long and so studiously over her words. She regretted 
extremely, however, to be obliged to refuse me my 
request, for it was against the rules of the establish- 
ment. Upon this I asked her whether I might not at 
least be permitted to see the grounds and gardens at 
the back of the convent, if it were only for a few 
moments. She paused and hesitated, but the law was 
stringent ; the favour could only be accorded by the 
bishop ; for the only persons who at any time had 
access to these were the priests when keeping their 
Retreat, and the children of the poor, who came to 
receive instruction at the inmates' hands. Still, she 
said she was sorry — very sorry. " Je suis desolee " 
were her words. 

Although we picture to ourselves, perhaps not 
wrongly, the inmates of a convent wearing out their 
lives in austerity and seclusion, it is not only for those 
of a sad and pensive turn of mind that this mode of 
existence has its charms. I remember meeting a lady 
in Paris who spoke of her niece, a young girl of nine- 
teen or twenty, of high and buoyant spirits, having 
embraced the sisterhood of her own free-will, and 
directly contrary to the advice and wishes of her 
friends. Though only then in the period of her novi- 
tiate, she would, in all probability, at the expiration of 



Walk to La Roche Derrien. 153 

the twelvemonth, be taking the irrevocable vow. 
Although about to bid adieu to the world and its 
vanities, she still had a sufficient lingering after its 
attractions to wish for a sight of herself in a mirror on 
the day of her admission, attired in her white cere- 
monial dress. When visited some time afterwards by 
her aunt, she was still buoyant and cheerful, and full 
of anrjaal spirits, and in the midst of her innocent 
gaiety exclaimed, " Oh, I wonder what the Lady 
Superior would say to this ! " She expressed her full 
determination, however, to persevere, though, when 
once the irrevocable vow was taken, she would never 
again issue from the convent walls. She declared her- 
self quite contented with the mode of life she had 
adopted ; but laughingly remarked that the only duty 
she thought unpleasant was the task which was set her 
of cleaning up the candlesticks every day. Her father 
and sister had done all they could to induce her to 
alter her intentions, but apparently without the least 
effect. 

It was impossible to avoid remarking the primitive 
but pleasing civility of the people in this interesting 
little town of Treguier, who almost invariably take off 
their hats to you as you pass them in the streets, both 
men and children, not, indeed, as an act of servility, 
but of politeness, for of course you show yourself on an 
equality with them, and take off your own hat in 
return. 

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when I set 
out for La Roche Derrien, the distance being about 
four miles. The day was extremely hot. Entering 
a small cabaret on the roadside, when about half-way, 
to obtain a cup of cider, I found nothing but a troop of 
small children in the house, who, not understanding a 



154 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



word of what was said, all fell to laughing immo- 
derately at what might have been to them Chinese, 
evidently thinking it a very good joke. However, 
being in no hurry, I sat down on a bench and waited 
patiently for about ten minutes, when, as the eldest 
of them, guessing at last what was wanted, was about 
to proceed to the cask, a grown-up person at the same 
moment entered the house and took the management 
into her own hands. A successful appeal was now 
made to her intelligence, she being given to understand 
that the preliminary business was to rinse out the un- 
washed mug with water, an operation the necessity of 
which could never possibly, without a smattering of 
Breton, have been instilled into the more youthful 
mind. 

There was nothing whatever attractive in the road 
to La Roche Derrien, and the river there at low tide 
presented simply a waste of mud, with an almost 
invisible stream running through the middle of it. The 
town, which contains under two thousand inhabitants, 
stands on the summit of a hill ; it belies, however, its 
romantic name ; and visions of remaining in the hotel 
here for the night were quickly dispelled, the place 
being uninteresting and dull, and it seemed preferable 
to walk on that evening, at any rate as far as the neigh- 
bouring village of Langoat. 

On reaching Langoat (what a Welsh-sounding 
name !) I found no decent inn, and therefore continued 
to prosecute my route to Lannion, resolving to stop at 
the first tolerable-looking house for the night. About 
a quarter of a mile beyond the village I encountered 
a gig drawn by a very facetious pony, who had it 
entirely his own way, and was making ludicrous zig- 
zags in the road. The vehicle contained two men — one 



An Unshorn Priest. 155 



of them an extremely corpulent and repulsive-looking 
priest, an enemy apparently to daily razors, if not to 
cold water, and who had a short black clay pipe in his 
mouth. I stopped to ask them whether there was 
any clean or comfortable place on the road along which 
they had come, where a traveller might put up. The 
priest, quickly taking the pipe out of his mouth, replied 
very curtly, " Oh yes, plenty ; " and then the other 
hurriedly drove off, as the pony was impatient. Had 
I been prudent enough, however, to reflect for a 
moment on the inevitable principles of congeniality, 
I should doubtless, instead of proceeding from bad to 
worse, have returned at once to Langoat; for what 
should not one reasonably have been prepared, to expect 
of a house of entertainment on a high road in Brittany, 
which such an unprepossessing person had denomi- 
nated a decent place ? 

The next hamlet I came to was miserable and dirty, 
and boasted for its hotel a style of pothouse in which I 
should have had a most decided objection to have slept. 
Even eating and drinking would have been out of the 
question in such a thorough pigsty. Possibly, by 
assenting to the decency of the house of entertainment, 
the priest may have considered he was only doing a 
good turn to one of his parishioners ; if so, however, it 
was decidedly at an unhappy traveller's expense. The 
succeeding collection of three or four houses, a few 
miles beyond this, was not a whit the more inviting, so 
the only alternative was to push on. I was now about 
five or six miles from my destination, and when within 
a league of the town I got a lift in a gig. The owner 
had already twice before overtaken me, and had sub- 
sequently stopped to transact his excise business at 
different public-houses as he went along. This time, 



156 



The Pardon of Guingamfi. 



doubtless, he looked upon me in the light of an old 
acquaintance, nor was I sorry to accept his offer. It 
was nearly dark when we entered Lannion, and this 
saving of half an hour brought me just in time for a 
late dinner which was accidentally being served up at 
the hotel. 




CHAPTER XII. 



Castle of Tonqnedec. — Morlaix. — Description of the Town. — Walk 
along theKiver. — Legend. — The Fete of Prince Jerome. — Walk to 
St. Pol de Leon. — The Leonard Peasant : his Piety and Resig- 
nation. — The Revolution. — Churches of St. Pol. — An Old In- 
habitant. — The Last Bishop of Leon. — The Agonie Noble. — 
Refrain of the Conscript. 

tourist should leave Lannioii without paying 
a visit to the old ruined Castle of Tonquedec, 
a distance of some seven miles — going out of 
his way another mile or so to see the quaint little 
Chapel of Kerfonse, in the midst of thick woods, 
through which somebody must guide him ; and then 
proceeding homewards by what still remains of the 
once imposing Chateau de Coatfrec, on the side of a 
tree-covered hill overlooking the valley of the Guer. 
The reader will not now, however, be conducted thither, 
but shall be taken at once by diligence to Morlaix. Of 
all the towns in Brittany this is the one which a 
stranger, perhaps, would be most anxious to visit, who 
may have heard it described, and read of it as such a 
quaint old place. Its situation, to begin with, is ex- 
tremely eligible. It is built in a valley along the 
banks of a river, a portion of the suburb being con- 
tinued up the hilly slopes. Gardens, tier over tier, 
rise all the way up on either side, with tempting ver- 
dure peeping coyly over their surrounding barriers. 
At nearly the summit of one of the steep side streets, 
the Rue des Fontaines (and streets of stairs are not at 




158 The Pardon of Guinga?np. 



all unfrequent), is a religious house, flanked by a high 
and massive wall, which is strong enough for a fortress ; 
and on the opposite hill is a Carmelite convent, the 
inmates of which never leave the place, receiving pro- 
visions and making their confession through an iron 
grating, and digging, when required, one another's 
graves. The space once occupied by the castle, and 
which still bears the name, is a deliciously cool plat- 
form on the highest point, commanding a splendid 
panorama both of town and country, and planted with 
a grove of trees, in the midst of which, during the 
hottest weather, you are fanned by grateful breezes, 
howsoever light. Ascending this hill, you pass beneath 
a fragment of crenelated wall, massive and lofty, a relic 
of the ancient fortification of the town. On a level 
space above it is a comfortable dwelling-house, which 
is reached by a flight of stairs, in one corner of which 
is a shady fig tree, having just a triangular space of a 
foot or two to grow in, and seeming almost to issue out 
of the rock itself. 

Standing one morning on the summit of one of the 
passages which conducts the pedestrian from the level 
of the lower to the upper portion of the town, I 
watched an infirm- looking Breton, in a broad-brimmed 
hat, toiling slowly up the long ascent. When he had 
gained the height, I remarked to him on the tedious- 
ness of the way. "Yes," he answered, panting for 
breath, "and I am growing old;" and then he made 
the sign of three times twenty upon his hands, and a 
woman who was passing by interpreted his words. 

That portion of Morlaix which runs along the quay 
is of pleasant aspect, and is made lively by the shipping ; 
and the antiquity of the town consists now chiefly of a 
few narrow streets, the houses in which are quaint and 



Town of Morlaix. 



J 59 



curious, many of them built in an elaborate manner, 
with overhanging gables, and carving and sculpture 
both inside and out. Their day, however, is over, and 
they are inhabited chiefly by people of the humbler 
class. A considerable section, indeed, of the older 
town has been destroyed within the century, to make 
way for the new, and the later additions harmonise but 
imperfectly with the rest. There is not a single public 
building of any architectural merit in the place, nor is 
either of the three existing churches worthy of any 
notice. Two of them certainly have handsome towers, 
but the body of the structures is of an inferior order, 
having probably, at one time or another, been despoiled. 

In the neighbourhood of the town are some interest- 
ing chateaux, amongst which may be mentioned espe- 
cially that of I/Anidy, with its high-pitched roofs, its 
walks and gardens, and its broad avenue of lime trees 
leading up to the antiquated court. One of the pret- 
tiest sights at Morlaix is its busy market, which is 
seen to advantage before breakfast on a summer's 
morning, when the display of fruit of every sort, but 
particularly of strawberries, is tempting and abundant. 
If it happens to be a Saturday, with a religious fete 
impending, you will see, besides, bunches of flowers on 
almost every stall, moss-roses, lilies, and various other 
bouquets, with enormous baskets full of sweet-scented 
rose-leaves, which are destined to be scattered in pro- 
fusion through the streets. The fish- market, also, is 
very well supplied, but everything, including the deli- 

ious rouget, is becoming more expensive every year. 

Though the town has, by all account, lost much of 
*ts quaintness, the deficiency is still, at any rate, coun- 

rbalanced by the delightful walk along the banks of 
he river towards the open sea. For about a mile and 



1 60 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



a half this walk is shaded on the right-hand bank by a 
continuous row of trees in the most agreeable fashion, 
whilst here and there the path is bounded by the abrupt 
uprising of a wooded rock. Lower down the river, on 
the other side, stands the Convent of St. Francis, with 
its ancient church, while the more modern one of La 
Sallette looks down upon it from a hill immediately 
above. 

Continuing this walk for about three miles, many 
handsome chateaux are passed on the way. To the 
owner of one of these — a general officer, at one time 
ambassador at St. Petersburg — I had been favoured 
with a letter of introduction the previous summer, but 
not having then visited Morlaix, I had since destroyed 
it. A little beyond, you come in sight of the open sea, 
at a distance of a few miles. It is seldom that the 
vicinity of a town has such an interesting walk as this, 
and the inhabitants of Morlaix wisely appear to take 
advantage of it, as they ought. Several islands are 
here visible on the horizon, and on one of them — that 
of Le Taureau — has been built a fortress, which com- 
mands the entrance of this important river. 

The bay of Dourduff, which signifies " the black water," 
and is within an easy walk of the town, was, previous 
to its erection, a great resort for corsairs and pirates, 
who used to surprise the merchant vessels in time of 
war, and carry off the inhabitants to their ships. There 
still runs a Breton tradition, which has been made the 
subject of a plaintive song, and which is essentially to 
the following effect : — 

L'EATJ NOIEE. 

Fresh when the breath of Autumn blew 
Up the dark water the Saxon new. 



A Breton Ballad. 



Out of her cottage that day has gone 

A loving young maiden, the fair Yvonne. 

Why, oh why, on that hapless day, 
Fated and lone did the virgin stray ? 

Master and man from the river shore 
That tender girl to the big ship bore. 

While unhallow'd their prey they kept, 
She in her terror and anguish wept, 

Till the Saxon strove to calm her fear, 
" Child, no life is in danger here." 

Pure she listen'd ; vile sea-king, 
What ! is your honour a shameless thing ? 

Life, 'tis a high, 'tis a priceless cost, 
Else if here be at stake and lost. 

" Saxon lord," would the maid divine, 
" How many masters here are mine ? " 

Cruel and stern he thus began : 
" Here your master is every man ; 

In this trusty ship there bide 

Five times twenty, and three beside ; 

They your lords and masters all." 
Heaven ! could fate more dread befall ? 

Spirit unseen, she leans on you : 
Will to her honour the maid be true ? 

True ! yes, true : to the silent skies 
Shall faith's pure prayer unheeded rise ? 

" Holy Three, me counsel give ; 

What ! shall I yield, and yielding live ? 

Never ! this trust, ocean, keep : " 
So she cries, and the gulf is deep. 

Dull that low, that boding sound ; 
The wide sea's hollow is closing round ; 

And the fierce and night-black waters roll 
O'er her body to save her soul. 

M 



l62 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



Yes, to the wild, to the yawning wave, 
She her honour a virgin gave ; 

And a gain to the skies accrued that day, 
But the robber he lost his saintly prey. 

Who wouldn't then one scalding tear 
Shed, as he eyes this cold grave here ? 

Oh ! a harden'd heart in his breast would lie, 
Griefless ever who would pass thereby, 

Where the martyr' d maid lies pure, and dight 
In her early virgin shroud of white. 

Best, sweet maid, in your cold death-bed, 

Till you wake, till you rise with the sainted dead. 

I had left the hotel in Morlaix at which I was 
located, and after no little trouble had succeeded in 
finding a suitable lodging, chiefly in order to have 
some convenient place to stow away my luggage whilst 
making excursions to the neighbouring parts. The 
morning I was about to set out on foot for St. Pol de 
Leon, the landlady of the house came up to ask me, 
towards nine o'clock, whether I was not going to re- 
main to witness the fete. It would be such a pity, she 
said, to go off and not see it. By all means, thought I, 
if there was to be a festival worth seeing at Morlaix, I 
would remain to do so ; and accordingly I inquired of 
the old woman what it was. The fete, she informed 
me, was the funeral service for the repose of the soul 
of Prince Jerome, who had died a few days before. 
All the soldiers would be there ; and the music — it 
would be so very grand ! 

Prince Jerome being uncle to the Emperor, every 
one, of course, was expected to treat his memory with 
respect. Strict orders, therefore, had been given to 
the police that every shop, cafe, and public office in the 
town must be closed till noon. No matter, however, 



Prince Jerome* s Fete, 



whether the cause was one of mourning or rejoicing, 
it was enough that all ordinary business was suspended 
till twelve o'clock, that the people should be gratified 
with a moderate amount of excitement on that especial 
day. Accordingly, every one who was able flocked out 
into the streets to see and to be seen, though the shops 
being universally closed (a circumstance which probably 
had not happened for many years), it would have been 
difficult for any uninstructed observer to have divined 
the cause. There was the show, indeed, but not the 
reality, of grief — the town was in mourning, but not 
the people — for the inhabitants of Morlaix would have 
thought it a lost opportunity not to have made the 
death even of Prince Jerome the occasion of a harmless 
fete. 

Notwithstanding this, the citizens soon found out, 
somewhat to their inconvenience, the determination of 
the authorities, as far as they themselves could enforce 
it, that it was not to be altogether a mere outward 
demonstration of respect, for if no one could prevent 
their promenading about the streets to enjoy them- 
selves, it was resolved, at any rate, that they should 
not unnecessarily eat and drink. 

Before going off to look at the fete I had made a vain 
attempt to penetrate into a cafe to get some breakfast, 
but the owner of the establishment deemed it at his peril 
to infringe the rule. On my return from the church 
I again made several other attempts, but with like 
success ; nor could even the influence of my landlady 
with any of her neighbours prevail upon them to be 
guilty of such a breach as this, though the good- 
natured old woman at last herself insisted on bringing 
up some provisions into the room. It was now nearly 
eleven o'clock, and I therefore determined to set out 



1 64 The Pardon of Giiingamp. 

without any loss of time for St. Pol de Leon, trusting 
to obtain a breakfast at some more hospitable cafe, at 
the further extremity of the town. I was successful 
at last in this, but it was at a house in the suburbs, 
which was not quite so haunted by the fear and dread 
of the terrible police. 

The road to St. Pol de Leon is of the same undu- 
latory character as so many of the highways in Brit- 
tany appear to be ; and it is not along these, in general, 
that objects of interest are to be sought. The distance 
from Morlaix is between twelve and thirteen miles. 
On gaining the summit of the last of these undulations 
an extensive tract of level country, bounded partially 
by the sea, presents itself to the traveller's view. 
Towering up in the distance above this wide and some- 
what naked plain, and conspicuous objects for many a 
mile around, appear the stately and imposing spires of 
St. Pol. The nearer you advance, more stately and 
imposing still become the form and aspect of one of 
these, unlike the reality of spurious structures, which, 
dignified when viewed in long remoteness, become 
mean and insignificant on the near approach, when 
distance only " lent enchantment to the view." 

No sooner had I reached my destination, and de- 
posited in my room the fishing-basket I had slung over 
my shoulder, and which contained all the temporary 
luggage requisite for a few days' excursion, than I 
hurried out to see these wonders of the town. St. Pol 
de Leon is a small and lifeless place, and though it is 
said to contain seven thousand inhabitants, its deserted 
streets give it almost the appearance of a city of the 
dead. The seat of an ancient bishopric, and with a 
fine cathedral, it was one of those quiet, out-of-the-world 
old towns which would have been content for ever to 



The Leonard Peasant. 165 

remain in its primaeval state ; for even in 1692, when 
Louis XI Y. imposed upon the inhabitants a mayor and 
council, Malte Brun says it was one of the most un- 
popular changes which had ever been introduced. 

To understand the meaning of this more clearly, 
before proceeding any further it may be well to state 
that the peasant of the Leonard district (and this, I 
think, will apply likewise even to the quaint and un- 
sophisticated inhabitants of St. Pol itself) is one who is 
sincerely attached to the ancient customs and usages 
of his beloved province ; he is pious, superstitious, and 
apathetic ; as different from the modern Parisian as is 
night from day. Nor is this brief description of him a 
mere romantic or poetic form of speech, but one with 
which not even a stranger of ordinary intelligence can 
fail to be speedily impressed. It is never safe, and it 
is, moreover, hardly fair for a passing traveller to write 
authoritatively about the character of a people whose 
peculiarities he can only accurately know after the 
longest and most intimate acquaintance, even though 
his account should be taken from what he may consider 
to be a genuine source. 

Agreeable and pleasant as the reading of it may be, 
a writer may be sometimes carried away by the heat of 
his imagination, and his sketch of national character, in 
the midst of his enthusiasm, may, perhaps uninten- 
tionally, be a little overdrawn. With this premise, 
therefore, it will at least be orthodox to extract the 
following description of the Leonard peasant from the 
work of the late M. Emile Souvestre, an author who, 
though he writes in prose, is sublime and poetic in his 
feelings. It is not for one instant meant to be in- 
sinuated that the description is unreal or overdrawn ; 
for, from his long and intimate experience of the 



1 66 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



manners and customs of the people of Brittany, he is 
one who, if any, is likely to be the most accurately in- 
formed. It is sufficient to assert that whilst easily 
understanding the broader parts of it from one's own 
limited observation, it is too distinctive and refined for 
any one to give his unhesitating assent to the graphic 
character of the delineation in every minuter portion, 
who has not, like M. Souvestre, resided amongst the 
Bretons for many years. 

" The Leonard," he says, " is of more commanding 
height than the other inhabitants of the province ; his 
step is slow and solemn, and stamped with majesty and 
force ; under the eye of God he advances to the condi- 
tion both of Christian and of man. His joy is serious, 
and breaks forth fitfully, in spite, as it were, even of 
himself. Grave and thoughtful, he displays but small 
excitement in his communications with the outer world. 
Yet judge him not by this appearance ; his life is 
entirely folded up within ; his exterior resembles that 
of the towering mountain, rough and frozen at the 
surface, warm even to passion as you pierce beyond. 
His language, more harmonious than that of Cor- 
nouaille, is a species of psalmody, whose tones he 
modulates to the pitch of sweetness which he would 
give to his discourse. He knows neither the dances of 
the hilly district, nor those again of the Tregorian 
people. His movements, responding to the monotonous 
notes of the hautboy and the bagpipe, are inflexible — 
severe. More frequently is his practice on the open 
shore to the majestic music of the echoing sea ; for he 
mingles in his nature the thought of an eternity, even 
in the midst of his terrestrial joys/' 

And again adds M. Souvestre, when speaking of the 
hold which the national creed has lost upon the people, 



Piety and Superstition. 167 

except in the more rural districts of France, " Yet, in 
the midst of this shipwreck of belief, the Leonard 
peasant has preserved his piety, and remains profoundly 
impressed with the sadness and resignation which reveal 
the real presence of the Catholic faith. For him there 
is no important notion but that in which religion must 
intervene. The house which he has erected, the barn- 
floor he has built, the field from which he anticipates 
to reap his harvest, demand some pious ceremony at his 
hands. We one day questioned one of these on the 
subject of the processions which at the period of Roga- 
tion make the round of the cultivated fields. * Of 
necessity this must be/ was the reply ; ' beneath the 
stole of the priest, the sterile waste becomes a fruitful 
land.' " 

In allusion, again, to the superstition of the people, he 
relates that when the country was scourged by cholera 
in 1853, whilst some of the ignorant order of people 
in Paris attributed the cause of the epidemic to the 
poisoning alike of food and fountains, the peasant of 
Brittany saw in it only the wrath of the Divine Being, 
who had given them over to the power of the evil spirit. 
The report of supernatural appearances was immediately 
spread abroad, and even in the neighbourhood of Brest 
apparitions of females in red were discovered breathing 
pestilence on the valleys. One unhappy mendicant 
who was brought before justice declared that she had 
seen them with her own eyes, nay, even that they had 
spoken to her ; so great was the power of imagination 
011 uneducated and superstitious minds. Believing it 
thus to be a chastisement from God, the people in the 
country districts, thinking all human means must be 
unavailing, deemed it useless, if not wicked, to resort to 
these, but contented themselves with flocking to their 



1 68 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



open churches at every hour of the day, to implore that 
the anger of Heaven might be appeased. M. Souvestre, 
making inquiry of the cure of one of the Leonard 
parishes what precautions he had taken, the priest led 
him forth in silence from the church, and pointed in 
the churchyard to a dozen open pits, thus ready before- 
hand for the crowd of dead, and excavated in anticipa- 
tion of the advancing scourge. 

What, then, must have been the effect of the Revo- 
lution on the minds of the primitive people of St. Pol ! 
Malte Brun, who writes universally about France, and 
is not poetical, says it gave them such a shock that they 
came out of their apathy. Their bishop, he proceeds, 
who was originally a cavalry officer, set them the 
example first. He sent back, without opening it, the 
decree of the Assembly which suppressed the see. On 
the occasion of the levy of three hundred thousand men, 
a bloody conflict took place in the city on the Cathedral 
Square. The Republican troops, however, were victo- 
rious, and from that moment the importance of the 
town, which had hitherto drawn its subsistence from 
the Ecclesiastical Establishment, declined. 

In 1790 its municipal magistrates addressed a pitiable 
request to the Assembly, representing how the buildings 
were on the point of falling to ruin, and the population 
ready to emigrate or starve. This appeal, it may be 
concluded, must have been ineffectual, for St. Pol de 
Leon seems never again to have raised its head. So 
dull and lifeless is it, that it has much more the appear- 
ance of an extensive village than a town. Were it not 
for its two beautiful churches, it would be literally an 
insignificant place. Yet, to my mind, on account of its 
unalterable and staunch Legitimism, and of its being 
still one of the head-quarters of the now totally decayed 



The Kreisker Church. 1 69 

representatives of anti-revolutionary France, it appeared 
one of the most interesting of towns. 

The Kreisker Church is a small, but was once a very- 
finished, edifice, and is chiefly remarkable for its mag- 
nificent square tower, pierced on each face by two tall 
pointed windows, and above which rises an airy steeple, 
flanked at the base by four smaller steeples, and in such 
an artistic manner as to give the whole a graceful and 
unusual effect. I had frequently seen the representa- 
tion of this splendid work in a print, and imagined from 
its appearance that the structure must be clumsy and 
inelegant ; but this, it now was evident, arose from the 
fact of what seemed to be an overhanging base being 
drawn too wide in proportion to the superincumbent 
height, and from the inability generally of an engraving 
to do justice to it, for the disappointment was agreeable 
with the original itself. 

It is built of granite, which is grey with age, an 
additional beauty, the effect of which can be given by a 
photograph, but not a print. The steeple, like the 
tower, is also pierced, and the entire height, from the 
base of the edifice to the summit, is rather under four 
hundred English feet. It was built in the fourteenth 
century by John IV., Duke of Brittany, and is justly 
called by some the most beautiful monument of its kind 
in Finistere; by others (no doubt as justly), in the 
whole of France. The church is now made use of as a 
chapel to the seminary, which adjoins it closely. The 
interior is small, and probably many people on entering 
it would at once remark a slight defect in the position 
of the choir. I could not at first account for it, but 
subsequently ascertained that its deviation from the 
nave is meant to typify the drooping of the Saviour's 
head upon the cross — an idea which, carried out in 



170 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

architecture to the extreme of spoiling entirely the effect 
of an edifice, is at once both barbarous and absurd. 

The finishing of the work must have been most 
delicate, a fact to which, in spite of revolutionary Van- 
dalism, the beautiful sculptures over the entrance porch 
still attest, though the building altogether is sadly in 
need of restoration. The people of St. Pol, however, 
are poor, and the work proceeds but slowly ; for Govern- 
ment, which for similar purposes has been liberal and 
lavish in many of the towns of France, denies its assist- 
ance entirely in the present case, because the inhabitants 
as a rule are staunch Legitimists, and opposed most 
strongly to the dynasty which now exists. 

Whether I was rightly informed or not, I cannot 
tell; it is always safe to make allowances for prejudice, 
but I heard that, for some such reason, the projected 
railway which is already being constructed in Brittany 
will not be permitted to approach St. Pol. The four 
massive granite pillars which support the tower and 
steeple of the Kreisker Church had recently been freshly 
picked ; and the porter of the college, who showed me 
over the building, remarked that the work had been 
performed entirely by the pupils of the establishment, 
in the absence, it must be concluded, of sufficient funds. 
The town and steeple, however, are still perfection, and 
these will ever be the most striking and beautiful 
features of the church. 

The cathedral is likewise a fine Gothic edifice, though 
terribly mutilated in parts by time and Vandalism.* 
It occupies one side of the public square. Its two 
western towers are surmounted by steeples in the style 
of that of the Kreisker f Church, though not so light 

* It has since this period been restored, 
f Kreisker signifies " centre of the town." 



An Old Inhabitant. 



171 



and lofty. In the interior may be noticed several little 
wooden boxes with, glass fronts containing skulls, which 
are placed there by the friends of deceased people — a 
strange and repulsive custom. Near the south door of 
the church is a granite sarcophagus, some six or seven 
feet in length, which is used as a conservatory for holy 
water, and which, according to some, was originally the 
receptacle of the body of King Conan Meriadec ; accord- 
ing to others, the boat or skiff, or whatever may be the 
most appropriate term for such a ponderous article, in 
which St. Houardon, Bishop of Leon, crossed over the 
sea from England to Brittany. However, as the exist- 
ence itself of the monarch above mentioned is denied 
by some, it would be unsafe perhaps to decide to which 
of these two theories to accord the palm. A sharp 
Breton lawyer might still give satisfaction to both 
these parties by asking what reasonable impediment 
should have prevented St. Houardon from sending 
over for the sarcophagus of King Conan to recline in 
during his passage across the Channel in an ordinary 
wooden ship. 

On a subsequent occasion I met with an old man at 
St. Pol de Leon who, though then a boy, remembered 
well the events of the first great Revolution. He was 
still living in the house which his family then occupied, 
and he showed me a room at the back of the premises 
in which his father gave shelter to many fugitive 
priests, and where frequently at two o'clock in the 
morning mass was said. The people who were " solid" 
used to come into the garden to be present at its cele- 
bration, though they could not hear what was said, it 
being recited in an undertone. There was a loft above 
the room, into which they could be hurried, though not 
very effectually concealed, at the slightest indication of 



172 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



alarm. There were often twelve or fourteen of these 
fugitives in the house, and several likewise in a build- 
ing on the other side of the street, who used to come 
over to them at night, whilst he and others of his 
companions were distributed here and there to watch. 
It was death, said the old man, J ean Jionter, to neglect 
the wearing of the red cockade. 

He remembered the breaking up of the great bell of 
the cathedral, which was melted down to be cast into 
money, and he had seen the guillotine at work at 
Quimper, and when the blade descended he had turned 
his head. He had a distinct recollection likewise of 
Monseigneur La Marche, the last Bishop of Leon, 
alluded to in a previous page, " a tall, handsome man, 
as yellow as an egg," and of his collecting in a wood 
just outside the town several hundred among the priests 
of his diocese, and of his giving them his last benedic- 
tion and advice. He recommended them at once to fly 
the country, and in a fortnight's time scarce priest or 
noble had remained behind. Early one morning not 
long afterwards, as he was on his way to work with 
three of his comrades a little distance in the country, on 
turning a corner suddenly he heard the sound of a gun, 
and was struck in the face by several stray shots, while 
a hare at the same time crossed his path. It had been 
fired by a priest, who came up to and recognised him, 
enjoining secrecy, to spare his life, reminding the boy 
that it was he who had prepared him for his first com- 
munion. The name of the priest was Le Gralle, and 
the secret of his whereabouts was safe, for it was in the 
hands of a family which was always staunch. 

This interesting old man was hale and hearty, and 
had quite a superior look. He told me he had assisted 
as a labourer in the demolition of Kerjean, a chateau in 



Last Bishop of St. Pol. 



173 



the neighbourhood ; and he likewise spoke of the execu- 
tion of Madame Launay, whose pardon came down two 
days afterwards, it haying been purposely kept back. 
" At that time/' he continued, " Robespierre had taken 
the government of the whole country into his own 
hands and then he added in an undertone, "juste- 
ment comme celui-ci a present." 

As for the bishop, he remained at his post until the 
latest moment ; but at length what he had been every 
day expecting, the order for his arrest, came down. He 
requested of the messengers who brought it a short delay 
in order to prepare himself to accompany them ; but he 
escaped meanwhile by a back door, and found refuge in 
a neighbouring chateau. On the following night he 
embarked in a small vessel at Roscoff, and arrived 
safely in England, where he spent the remainder of his 
days ; * preferring to continue in exile, though he might 
subsequently have returned to France on the news of the 
suppression of the see. He is remembered throughout 
the diocese as the JEscop au patates, or " the bishop of 
potatoes his lordship having been among the foremost 
to interest himself in the introduction of that now 
universally- cultivated vegetable in this part of Brittany. 

At St. Pol de Leon the traditional and strange dis- 
tinction between patrician and plebeian is still observed 
at the very moment when all line of demarcation 
between rich and poor is so soon about entirely to 
cease. When the passing bell rings out for the dying, 
the number and frequency of the tolls denote the sex 
of the individual at the point of death ; and in the 
case of members of aristocratic families, the "agonie 

* At the expiration of sixty years his body was brought back to 
St. Pol de Leon, where it was interred with great pomp on the 18th 
September, 1866. 



1 74 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



noble " is that which sounds more solemn and more 
slow. 

The yearning of the Leonard for his native country- 
is beautifully embodied in a Breton song, which makes 
the refrain of the conscript of St. Pol bring vividly to 
his recollection the matchless tower of his parish 
church : — 

" Tous les jours que Dieu fera, je dirai, 
J'aime mon fosse dore, j'aime ma tour de Creizker." 



CHAPTER XIII. 



Decayed Nobility. — The Onion Merchant. — Breton Beggars. — Chateau 
de Kerouzere. — Menhirs. — Chateau de Kerjean : its Last Owner, 
— Celtic Cemetery. — The Old Soldier. — High Mass in the Cathe- 
dral. — Churchyard of St. Pol de Leon. 




RETURNED to Morlaix from St. Pol de Leon 
by diligence ; one walk over the same high, 
road being in most cases quite enough. 
Haying asked one of the passengers, a very intelligent 
old gentleman, about the especial objects of interest in 
the neighbourhood of the town, he mentioned the 
names of two ancient chateaux which were very well 
worth seeing, and which I had missed. I had, indeed, 
made search on foot for those in the immediate vicinity, 
though I had only found out one or two very small 
ones ; and as those he mentioned were for size and im- 
portance undoubtedly exceptional, I resolved to pass 
again through St. Pol de Leon on my way to Brest. 
I also made inquiry of him about the decayed nobility 
still resident in the place, and he told me there were at 
least a dozen families, a few of whom conserved their 
titles ; though when at times I heard them casually 
spoken of, it was, as is often the case in France, with- 
out any prefix to their names. Notwithstanding the 
fact of their being poor, the sons in many instances 
embrace no profession, so that in a few generations, 
except through their own traditions, they will probably 
be undistinguishable from the mass. There were not 



176 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



wanting those, however, as I subsequently heard, who 
had made themselves, since the restoration, the in- 
heritors of titles whose representatives had become 
extinct, and to which they had no legal claim. 

Villemarque relates how once on the highway be- 
tween Quimper and Douarnenez he met a tall, hand- 
some-looking peasant of about forty years of age, dressed 
in the full-folded trousers of the district, and with his 
long light hair floating down his back. Struck with 
his distinguished appearance, he inquired who he was. 
It was the last Marquis of Keroulaz.* 

I was myself on one occasion stopping at a little 
village on the sea-coast, and was standing on the jetty, 
talking to a fisherman about the effects of the first great 
Revolution, when he turned and said to me, " There, do 
you see that little urchin throwing out his lines close 
by ? Well, he is heir to a title, and will be a noble- 
man at some future day. His father is the Count de 

la C , a poor but very proud man. Many of his 

friends have frequently offered their assistance, but he 
will not avail himself of their aid." 

The little urchin in question had anything but a dis- 
tinguished appearance ; but the story of his nobility, as 
I ascertained by inquiry, was perfectly correct, though 
the statement of the romantic independence of his father 
was not quite so accurate. He had, indeed, in a great 
measure brought his misfortunes on himself ; and cer- 
tain members of his family had volunteered to take his 
eldest son off his hands and educate him for position ; 
but the offer had been declined, on the plea that his 
circumstances in that case would be above those of his 
brothers and sisters, which was not a desirable thing. 

* The marquis (1867) is still alive, and has five sons ; so there is no 
probability of the title becoming soon extinct. 



Fellow Passengers.. 



177 



The return diligence from Morlaix was to start that 
afternoon at four o'clock. I am afraid, however, I was 
the cause of its being untrue to its reputation for 
punctuality; for, having been unavoidably detained 
whilst a commission was being executed, I had gone 
down once or twice to the Quay to try and induce the 
driver to give me a few minutes' grace. 

There were only two passengers in the vehicle, with 
no prospect of others, and there they sat most patiently 
in the heat, the sun striking fiercely upon them, with- 
out uttering a single word. My conscience at last 
upbraided me at the sight, and instead of tempting the 
driver by any further question of deferring his depar- 
ture, I now rather recommended him to be off. He, 
however, probably thinking it to his own interest to 
secure what fare he could, sooner than allow the money 
to pass into the courier's hands at night, required very 
little inducement to delay ; and it was, perhaps, nearly 
three-quarters of an hour after the proper time for 
starting when at last we rattled noisily out of Morlaix. 

The effect of the exertion of going backwards and 
forwards to the Quay on such a hot afternoon was such 
as to justify my asking the unmurmuring passengers 
whether they would have any objection for a few 
moments to put up the window and forego the draught 
as we drove rapidly along. They at once both of them 
consented, and so an introduction having thus already 
taken place, the following conversation almost imme- 
diately began. 

It must first be remarked that both my companions 
were Bretons, a man and a woman, the former about 
thirty years of age. The poor fellow, though not 
shrewd, was not exactly simple ; he was merely, as are 
most of his countrymen in that class of life, delightfully 

N 



178 The Pardon of Gtringamp. 



ignorant of everything out of his own province, and 
therefore not too well informed ; and being far gone in 
a consumption, he was of a somewhat melancholy turn 
of mind. 

" Fm very sorry to have kept you waiting such a 
time, but I really couldn't help it." 

" Oh, it's no consequence" a pause (he has 

previously inquired my nationality) "Are onions 

cheap in England now ?" 

" No, I don't think so ; that is to say, if I remember 
right, they're rather dear." 

" Ah ! so they are here. You're going about for 
onions, I presume ?" 

" Well, not exactly. I suppose, however, by your 
asking me the question, that you yourself are ?" 

" Yes. I travel from place to place for the purpose 
of buying them up. I suppose in your own country 
you eat nothing else ?" 

" Oh, a few things. What makes you ask the ques- 
tion?" 

" Ah diable ! I saw five or six vessels the other day 
leaving Roscoff for England laden with nothing else. 
Have you any grain in England ?" 

" Oh yes, plenty." 

" Have you any flax in your country ?" 
" A tolerable quantity, but not so much, perhaps, as 
in France." 

" Have you any carts where you come from ?" 

" Oh yes, a great number of them." 

" And have you any horses ?" 

" Indeed we have ; a great many." 

" Really ! And have you any churches ?" 

" A considerable number likewise." 

" I suppose you're going to remain at St. Pol?" 



A Conversation. 



179 



" Yes, but only for a few days." 

" Oh, you ought to buy a house, and come and live 
there for good." 

" Well, for several reasons I shouldn't be able to do 
that." 

" Oh yes, you would ; you ought at any rate to re- 
main there for six months and learn Breton." 

" As to that part of it, I shouldn't at all mind study- 
ing your language." 

" Yes, you should get married at St. Pol, for I sup- 
pose you're still young ?" 

" Are there many ladies resident in the place ?" 

Here the conversation was momentarily interrupted 
by the voice of the old woman opposite, " He knows 
that perfectly well." 

" How should I ? I've seen very few of them ; I've 
only been there a very short time." 

" Are you going to visit Brest ?" 

" I hope so. Is it a fine town ?" 

" Oh yes, magnificent ; but you had far better return 
by St. Pol ; it's much the best way." 

" Well, perhaps I shall. That's a fine chateau we're 
passing now." 

" Yes ; the proprietor has an annual income of four 
hundred thousand francs. You'd be rich if you had 
such a fortune as that." 

" Wouldn't I?" 

" Ah, but you have ! " 

" I wish I had." 

" Oh, I'm certain you have ; every Englishman is 
rich." 

The number of beggars on the road was at times 
quite perplexing ; not always/though poor, real objects 



1 80 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



of charity, but children who would follow the diligence 
up a hill in a whining and piteous tone of voice, and 
who, when they saw their petition treated as a joke, 
would drop the piteous tone and burst out laughing at 
their own absurdity. That morning an indigent-look- 
ing man in rags had presented himself at the door of 
the vehicle to see what charity he could eyoke. No 
sooner, however, did the old chemist catch sight of him 
than he sent him about his business at once. I inquired 
who he was. He told me that tattered object was the 
owner of a farm, but that he was too lazy to work ; 
and a woman likewise who was in the diligence added 
that he possessed some money ; he was an inveterate 
beggar, and a well-known character in these parts. 

The morning after my return to St. Pol de Leon, I 
took a vehicle and drove to the Chateau de Kerouzere, 
a grand old building of the middle ages. Though in very 
bad repair, it is still inhabited (being, in fact, almost 
the only feudal castle in Finistere which is), and stands 
out nobly in the style of those magnificent baronial resi- 
dences of the thirteenth century, half castle, half coun- 
try seat, with its rounded towers, surmounted by high 
circular roofs tapering upwards to a point. Strangers 
are admitted without the slightest hesitation after the 
mere formality of signing their names in the visitors' 
book. The greater number of the rooms are no longer 
in use, and indeed are almost falling into decay. The 
chapel likewise is dismantled, and it would require an 
immense fortune to restore the building to its former 
state. It seems now contrary to probability that the 
attempt will ever be made. 

One of the original possessors of the chateau, Boiseon 
de Coetnizan, was amongst the few in the department 
who embraced the cause of Henry IV., and he stood a 



Chateau de Kerouzere. 181 

siege of six weeks from the Duke de Goulaine, but was 
compelled to surrender at the expiration of that time. 
He was then held captive by the Governor of Brittany 
for a considerable period, and only obtained his libera- 
tion on the payment of ten thousand crowns. The 
fortress was subsequently dismantled, though on the 
accession of Henry IY., by the assistance of that 
monarch, its owner was enabled to restore it worthily, 
and did so to that extent and condition in which it is 
seen at the present day. 

The loopholes and embrasures for cannon, and for 
the pouring down of scalding water on the besiegers, 
exist still, as perfectly as in the olden time. From the 
roof of the building there is a most charming view of 
land and water. The woods attached to the property, 
though very much reduced, are still tolerably extensive, 
and they stretch down to near the sea-shore, which is 
only about half a mile off. If ever the possession of 
wealth and influence, and of a princely feudal residence 
in a pleasant country, lent happiness to existence, then 
at the Castle of Kerouzere it must surely have been 
found. There is now, however, but small appearance of 
wealth, scarcely even indeed of comfort ; still it stands 
dignified, imposing, and romantic, by the side of a 
noiseless and almost lonely road. The owner was, 
at this period, unmarried, and a plain, old-fashioned 
cabriolet in the coach-house was apparently the only 
vehicle he possessed. 

On leaving Kerouzere I drove to Plouescat, a small 
town, in the vicinity of which are two menhirs, one of 
them close to the sea- shore. There was considerable 
difficulty in finding them, especially the latter, as the 
people knew nothing about it, and the carriage-road 
was bad. The coast, though low, is here wild and 



1 82 The Pardon of Gaingamp. 



rocky, and the land which borders it is generally ill 
cultivated and poor. Many native writers on Brittany 
tell us of these menhirs, how the country-people look 
upon them with awe and veneration, and how, full of 
hope and pious fervour, married but still childless 
women often resort to them in faith by night. Whilst 
understanding perfectly that this superstition did for- 
merly exist, I was anxious nevertheless to ascertain 
(what I could indeed scarcely realise) whether any 
traces of such a feeling amongst the inhabitants actually 
remained. Accordingly, I made inquiry of an old man 
who was passing by, through the medium of the driver, 
how the menhir had originally come there, but he 
merely replied that he had always seen it as it so stood, 
and he supposed it had originally been placed there by 
human hands, and more than this he could not tell. 

A few days afterwards, again at Pontusval, near one 
of the loftiest menhirs of Finistere, I tried to extract 
some information on the same subject out of a little boy, 
by the promise of some halfpence if he would tell me 
all about it ; but, as was only natural, he knew nothing 
more than the old man. I was likewise told at the 
same place, by several sensible people, that no supersti- 
tion whatever about that rude monument existed in the 
present day. 

Returning to Plouescat, I entered a small cafe, in 
which was a large staring print of the Virgin in 
flaming colours, with some verses beneath it, and an 
announcement that whoever would pray to Our Lady of 
Rurnengol would never perish. It may be stated in 
explanation that the Virgin worshipped under this 
denomination has a chapel at Rurnengol dedicated to 
her honour, to which pilgrimages are made at the 
periods of the solstice and equinox ; and though " Lady 



Paganism Modified. 



183 



of every remedy " is confidently stated by high authority 
to be the meaning of her title, M. de Freminville had 
previously suggested that on the site now occupied by 
the edifice a menhir may possibly have once existed, 
which was worshipped by the early inhabitants as ruz- 
men-gouln, "red stone of light ;" that is, the sun. This 
idea seems plausible from the fact of Christianity having 
been here directly grafted on the stem of heathenism ; 
for the first missionaries of the new faith began their 
work by adapting the symbols of one religion to those 
of the other, and modifying the Pagan to the Christian 
term. Thus, whilst the menhir at Pontusval, to which, 
allusion has been made above, was either (not inexpe- 
diently) tolerated by the advocates of the one system, 
or else tenaciously conserved by the professors of the 
other, a species of compromise was effected by a cross 
being carved out on the summit of the stone. 

As Blunt remarks, talking of our own country : "It 
was a maxim with some of the early promoters of the 
Christian cause, to do as little violence as possible to 
existing prejudices. They would run the risk of Bar- 
nabas being confounded with Jupiter, and Paul with 
Mercurius. In the transition from Pagan to Papal 
Rome much of the old material was worked up. The 
heathen temples became Christian churches ; the altars 
of the gods, altars of the saints ; the curtains, incense, 
tapers, votive tablets, remained the same : the aqua- 
minarium was still the vessel for holy water ; St. Peter 
stood at the gate instead of Cardea ; St. Rocque or St. 
Sebastian in the bed-room instead of the Phrygian 
Penates ; St. Nicholas was the sign of the vessel instead 
of Castor and Pollux; the Mater Deum became the 
Madonna ; the festival of the Mater Deum, the festival 
of the Madonna, or Lady Day ; the hostia, or victim, 



184 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

was now the Host ; the Lugentes Campi, or dismal 
regions, Purgatory ; and the offerings to the Manes, 
masses for the dead." 

Nine miles from Plouescat is the Chateau de Kerjean, 
one of the largest in Brittany, to which I next steered 
my course. On the way to it are passed one or two 
fine old country seats, with tempting avenues of trees 
in front. The private drive, which leads to Kerjean, is 
at least a mile in length, but most of the timber has 
been cut down, whilst — as a sort of atonement — young 
trees have of late years been planted to fill up the gap. 
The two lofty towers of the chateau stand out in an im- 
posing manner, and appear to great advantage for many 
miles around. On approaching it you find, as usual, 
that you are coming to a deserted place. A broad and 
deep moat, now dry, runs round this vast structure, the 
outer walls of which are entirely concealed, in the most 
picturesque manner, by a luxuriant mass of ivy cling- 
ing to them in every part. The principal portion of 
the building is in all but a ruinous state, though some 
of it is still occupied by the proprietress in the summer 
months. The most complete silence and desolation now 
reign in every part of the demesne. I entered the 
courtyard over a bridge, and then passed on into the 
yet pleasant gardens, to see if any living creature was 
to be found. I soon fell in with a woman, who was 
picking fruit. I asked her, through the medium of the 
driver, to be allowed to see the interior of the building, 
but she informed me I could not be admitted with- 
out an order from her mistress, who lived at St. Pol ; 
and, as she seemed painfully inexorable, I was fain to 
content myself with looking about on the surrounding 
walks. 

The chateau was erected in the reign of Louis XIII. 



Chateau de Kerjean, 



Though strongly fortified, the inner court reminds you 
more of a country seat than a castle, and, in fact, was 
built at the period when the right of erecting feudal 
fortresses had passed away, and when the all-powerful 
Eichelieu exerted his utmost to prevent the petty war- 
ring of the nobles amongst themselves. Some idea of 
its original condition may be entertained when Louis 
XIII. pronounced it a residence fit in every way for the 
reception of royalty, and one of the finest edifices in 
France. Its territorial possessions were constituted by 
that monarch into a marquisate, and the property sub- 
sequently passed into the family of De Coatanscourt. 
It is larger and of different style, though perhaps not 
so mediaeval in appearance, as the Chateau of Kerouzere, 
which I had seen in the morning. 

Whilst strolling through the shrubberies I was over- 
taken by the keeper's son, who came to tell me he 
would willingly show me the gallery and chapel if I 
wished it. The former is a sort of platform or stone 
walk, extending along the front of the building, and 
leads to the latter, which is now in a state of ruin. He 
likewise conducted me through an underground passage, 
leading to embrasures in which were formerly placed 
the cannon which commanded the moat. What a con- 
trast did a few short years effect in the condition of 
this once lordly place ! The last of the former line of 
owners of the chateau, Madame de Coatanscourt, was 
executed at Brest, in 1794. She was a proud and 
haughty woman (no very uncommon fault, perhaps, 
amongst the old nobility of France), but she found her 
match in the Bishop of Leon, who insisted upon her 
admitting to her own table her clergy, whom she would 
have preferred to banish at meal- times to more domestic 
quarters. On one occasion this plain-spoken prelate 



1 86 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

took a chair and covered his head (perhaps only with 
the usual skull-cap) in presence of the astonished lady, 
who was reading some papers which he had brought 
for her inspection, and had neglected asking him to 
take a seat. 

" Apprenez," she exclaimed, reddening with anger, 
" que jamais les huissiers ne se sont couverts ni assis en 
ma presence." 

" En verite ! " replied the Bishop ; " c'etaient done 
des gens qui n'avaient ni cul ni tete ? Pour moi, j'en 
agis autrempnt." 

Few, I think, would contemplate these fine old 
chateaux in their sad decay without a feeling of regret 
at their irrevocable ruin, and in spite of all the pride 
and haughtiness of their once-mighty owners. There 
are still the remains of several other venerable mansions 
in the neighbourhood of St. Pol, such as those of 
Kerc'hoent, Kerautret, Pont-Plancoet, and Penc'hoat ; 
but whatever may have been their former condition, 
they are not to be compared in their ruin with the other 
two. On the way home I passed a small circular 
chamber erected over the statue of some venerated 
being. On the altar upon which he stood were laid an 
endless number of staffs and crutches, the recognition 
of cripples who had either been cured, or believed them- 
selves to have been so, by the intercession of the saint. 

Between Sibiril and Cledir, two villages on the road 
to Plouescat, are the remains of a carneittou, or Celtic 
cemetery, which I had proposed stopping to look at as 
I came back. Not returning, however, by that route, 
I determined on the following day to walk out and see 
it. It was the first wet day we had had for a long 
time, and I waited all the morning at St. Pol, hoping 
it might yet clear up. As it did not do so, I started, 



An Old Soldier. 



i8 7 



in spite of the rain, about two o'clock, and certainly 
under disadvantageous circumstances, in order to be 
home again not later than six. The distance to Cledir 
is seven miles, and the probabilities were that the walk 
would extend to at least sixteen. On the emergency, 
therefore, I effected nearly five miles an hour, and came 
at last, with great difficulty, on the object of my search ; 
the people, of whom I was obliged to make inquiry, be- 
lieving that I had come to dig for treasure. 

On my way home, and when about half-way between 
the two villages, a cart overtook me, returning from 
the market at Plouescat, of which, for a short distance, 
I took advantage ; not that I was tired, but in order to 
arrive somewhat sooner at St. Pol. The driver, with 
whom I speedily entered into conversation, was an old 
soldier of the time of Louis Philippe, and out of 
curiosity I asked him about the political sympathies of 
the people in these parts. He did not give a very lucid 
answer, as Breton was evidently the language he spoke 
best, so I then asked him plainly if the inhabitants of 
this district would like Henri Cinq. 

" No, certainly/' he replied ; " we now eat bread, 
but if Henri Cinq were on the throne, we should either 
eat straw or starve." 

Coming up to the foot of a steep hill, the man stopped 
at a house to take in some provisions ; and, having 
discovered by experience that I should go faster on foot, 
as the vehicle went only at a snail's pace, I got out of 
his cart and walked briskly on. Scarcely, however, 
had I surmounted the hill than the old fellow, who had 
hitherto gone so slowly, came up quickly after me, 
looking cross and fierce. 

" I suppose you're for Henri Cinq," said he, " since 
you began to talk about him in that manner?" 



i88 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



I replied that it made very little difference to me 
whoever was on the throne of France. 

" Oh, but I'm certain you are," he repeated angrily, 
" or else you wouldn't have spoken about him as you 
did." 

I told him I was an Englishman, and therefore in 
reality had nothing at all to do with it ; but he was 
not satisfied with the reply, and shouted out as I struck 
on ahead, " It's exactly the same ; all you English are 
for that sort of thing ; " and he continued to declaim 
angrily and sulkily till he turned off at last into another 
road, where I heard him in the distance still vehemently 
mentioning the name of the exiled prince to some 
people following after him in another cart. 

After reading the description of the Leonard peasant 
given in the previous chapter, no one will have any 
difficulty in understanding this ; for the more ignorant 
amongst them are full of deep-rooted prejudices and 
strange ideas; and you might as well attempt to 
remove a mountain as to relieve them of these. The 
fact is, the comprehension of the Breton, as a rule, is 
slow, and his powers of reasoning small ; just as in the 
case of the onion merchant of Roscoff, who was uncer- 
tain whether in England we had carts and horses, and 
who could not be convinced that every Englishman was 
not fabulously rich. 

The old soldier of Louis Philippe had evidently been 
talking over the question at the public-house, and had 
come to the conclusion that I was a political agent ; and 
had I been remaining at an inn in some unfrequented 
village, it might have needed very little more to have 
found myself arrested as such. An incident which 
took place a few days afterwards will display the igno- 
rance and prejudice of a Breton, and the awkwardness 



High Mass at Cathedral. 189 

of arousing his suspicions, in a yet clearer light. I am 
not at all sure, however, that this one was a very good 
specimen of his race, for when, on originally beginning 
the conversation, I suggested that the Bretons were an 
honest people, he had assured me I wasn't sufficiently 
acquainted with them, for there were a great many bad 
ones about these parts. 

As to the idea of eating bread under the present 
Government, and the alternative of straw or starve 
under Henri Cinq, it is not probable that an ignorant 
peasant could have deduced it for himself; nor would 
it be in any way surprising if political agents of another 
creed than Legitimism had paid their attentions to 
those unsophisticated spots. 

Yet, though here was undoubtedly a firm believer in 
the existing regime, it is not every one in the neigh- 
bourhood of St. Pol who is thus easily brought round ; 
for this ancient little city is strong in the traditions of 
the past, and lives on the memory of olden times ; and 
I saw while here some unceremonious lines in dispraise 
of the most powerful man in France. 

When I returned to St. Pol from that afternoon's 
excursion, the town clock had not yet struck six ; and, 
considering that I must have accomplished nearly 
sixteen miles, full fifteen of which I walked, and that I 
had had to make stoppages of five and ten minutes for 
inquiries every now and then, my pace must have been 
anything but slom 

On the Sunday morning I visited the cathedral at 
the time of high mass. The interior presented a most 
striking appearance. The centre aisle was taken up 
entirely by the women, some of whom were on chairs, 
but most of them seated in rows on the stone flags. 
The men were all standing in the side aisles. Their 



190 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



dress consisted without exception of a jacket of dark 
coarse cloth, without the needless and ugly encumbrance 
of a collar, the omission of which invariably gave the 
garment a good fit, and made the wearer look incom- 
parably smarter than an English labourer, who, when 
he wears a coat at all, thanks to the refinement of the 
country tailor, appears as if a harness were hanging 
about his neck. But the Breton tailor is likewise a 
professional matchmaker, so it is not surprising if he 
does his best to make his customers look smart. The 
trousers likewise were of the same material, and the 
collars of the shirts, inordinately large, were made to 
stand up as gills, till they sometimes reached half-way 
up the head. They held in their hands their broad- 
brimmed hats, round which was a piece of black velvet, 
and a bright silver cord with tassels. It was certainly 
a most picturesque and striking sight. 

In the course of the service there was a sermon 
preached in Breton, which was delivered with all the 
fluency of a Celt. In the afternoon there was a pro- 
cession from the church, with the usual number of 
banners and wax tapers, and young girls in white. It 
was the day of the Pardon. Seated not far from one 
another, in one particular portion of the building, was 
a knot of about twenty well-dressed ladies, old and 
young, the only females in the church with bonnets ; 
and these, whether rightly or wrongly, I set down-as 
members of the old decayed fanfelies of St. Pol. 
Walking subsequently in the grounds of what was once 
the Episcopal Palace, I saw three large barrels placed 
upright on the ground. Inquiring the reason, I was 
told they were intended as stands for musicians, for 
the people were going to finish up the day with a 
dance. Tuesday there was to be held a fair, and on the 



Cemetery of St. Pol. 191 



morrow was the Pardon of Roscoff ; so it was a week 
of fetes. 

St. Pol de Leon has still in its more secluded streets 
a few, but not very many, of those ancient residences in 
the midst of gardens surrounded by high walls, which 
are more common in continental cities than in our own, 
and which, in fact, in England are only seen in some 
rare cathedral town. As if in contrast to the general 
poverty of the inhabitants, there is yet one wealthy 
nobleman in the place. He has an income which, in 
France, and especially in Brittany, is thought almost 
fabulous ; and it is only a wonder that the priests have 
not sufficient influence to induce him to do something 
handsome towards the restoration of the Kreisker 
Church. The distant and uncertain glimpse which you 
catch of the mansion through the trees at the entrance 
of the city gives the impression of its being a modern 
house. 

On approaching St. Pol de Leon by the Morlaix 
road, there stands a rather large old churchyard, which 
is used as the general cemetery of the town. There is 
nothing particularly romantic in its appearance, for 
though it has a row of ancient lime trees running down 
the centre, the graves seem scarcely grass- grown, and 
they are altogether too thickly placed. In the walls 
surrounding it are numerous niches for the skulls and 
bones of those who have been long deceased ; and there 
are still likewise the remains of the several stations, 
representing scenes which precede the crucifixion, and 
in which the figures and the principal personages con- 
cerned were originally carved in wood. 

If, however, you wander in this churchyard on a 
summer evening, you will see in the twilight the silent, 
ghost-like form of many an earnest mourner, with 



1 92 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



downcast eyes and moving lips, on his knees, at -the 
tomb of some relative or friend. Nor is it merely the 
warm impression of some recent grief which impels the 
devout pilgrim to this dismal spot, but these silent 
figures go and come, that they may recall the memory 
of departed days, and freshen their remembrance of the 
sleeping dead. Here a daughter weeps her parent, a 
mother her child, and a faithful widow may shed life- 
long tears, nor be thought the while unnatural and 
strange. For this they approach, and more than this ; 
for though indeed we deem it useless, only bigotry 
will deny the piety of the act — they come to plead that 
they may rest in peace. 

As I cast my eyes round me, I caught sight, amongst 
others, of the outline of a peasant girl who was kneel- 
ing by the side of a square-built tomb. Though neither 
grand nor stately, for this reason alone it was some- 
what more apparent than the crowd of poor and humble 
ones beside it ; and proceeding to the spot when she 
rose and left it, I glanced at the inscription on the low- 
lying slab. It was the resting-place, I gathered, of 
her former master, for upon it were a coronet and coat- 
of-arms. I glanced at others of the same sort, and the 
like emblazoning adorned the stones. But they lie 
surrounded by the humbler graves, and no record of 
their deeds or of service to their country, nor yet 
mention of the feudal castles which their fathers once 
possessed, can now be inscribed upon their modest 
tombs. 

And this is all — that poor armorial — which is left 
to tell of the vanished grandeur of the pride and glory 
of the flower of ancient France. But less than human, 
more than fiendish, would he be who, averse to the 
distinctions of rank and power, would desecrate the 



In the Churchyard of St. Pol. 193 



place by mean and low exultings on their fall. If man 
is accountable to his fellow-man for arrogance and 
tyranny, then did not their fathers well atone, by all 
their sufferings, for ages of unbridled haughtiness and 
pride ? And did not the nauseous chalice of humilia- 
tion, which they more than drained, yield a reckoning 
to the full to human nature for its long account ? Yes, 
history has written the revolting form, and the adversary 
acknowledges the full receipt. May they rest in quiet- 
ness ! We. yield our sympathy; the world reads the 
lesson on their slighted tombs. 



IN THE CHUECHYAED OF ST. POL DE LEON. 



Peace to this place ! 'tis sacred here, 

With hush'd and hallow' d step draw nigh ; 

To move the slanderous tongue forbear, 
And let the dead inviolate he. 

While the high mind the moral learns, 
Malice alone will these asperse ; 

The voice of mirth to mourning turns, 
And joins in wailing round the hearse. 

At throes of anguish, throbs of pain, 
Let the warm tear, swift-cited, flow; 

No loathsome hate in death profane 
The memory of a fallen foe. 

If righteous rage its dues to seize, 

When startled, thirsts, the standing debt 

(Could humbled pride but wrath appease) 
Its more than interest harsh has met. 
O 



194 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



Might heed but serve a purpose well, 
A breath may hinder that you fall, 

Where poor are blazon' d arms to tell 
Lost glories of a lordly hall. 

From worse may sight of changing state, 
And tested reeds thus broken, save ; 

The school of wisdom, taught by fate, 
Is held in mercy o'er the grave. 

Here chain each base-born impulse down ; 

It cannot, say, that there are some, 
In gall and poison who would drown 

Their keener feelings as they come ? 

Not thus, touch'd heart, your sadness own ; 

Now to the tomb fresh garlands bring, 
That so from seeds of ill, deep -sown, 

May flowers of yet sweet fragrance spring. 



CHAPTER XIV. 



esneven. — Walk to Pontusval. — Peasants of the District. — Menhir 
of Pontusval. — Dolmens. — Walk to Pengol. — The Public- 
houses. — Village Schoolmaster. — Degeneracy of Language. — 
Round the Hearth. — The Mayor of Pengol. — An Altercation. — 
The Court of Justice. — Shut the Door. — Obstinacy of the Mayor. 
— Retire to Eest. — The Mayor in his Nightcap. — The Gens- 
darmes. — Return to Lesneven. — A Breton Welcome. 




HE diligence for Lesneven leaves St. Pol de 
Leon at seven o'clock in the morning, and 
reaches its destination about noon. On my 
arrival, having no intention of making any stay in the 
place, I had my luggage taken up into a lumber-room 
in the inn before which the vehicle stopped, and then 
proceeded to take a walk through the town. It was 
market day, and the streets being crowded, presented a 
very animated sight. On ordinary occasions Lesneven 
is a very quiet little town, containing perhaps three or 
four thousand inhabitants ; but on that particular after- 
noon it was lively and bustling, and had a thoroughly 
characteristic air. The market was well supplied with 
butter, and eggs, and fruit, and poultry ; and as the 
buyers and sellers consisted chiefly of country-people, 
there was nothing but Breton spoken in the crowd. 
Everything here, at present at least, is cheap, and you 
can get a capital dinner at the principal hotel at an 
exceedingly moderate price. The original similarity 
of words and names -between the Breton and the Welsh 
may here be traced in the etymology of the town, 



ig6 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



which is a contraction of Les-an-Even, or the Court of 
Even, one of the ancient kings of Leon. 

Returning after dinner to the house where my 
luggage had been left, I put the few necessaries which 
I required for a couple of nights into my fishing-basket, 
and then set out for Pontusval, a small village on the 
sea- coast, distant about seven and a half miles. The 
whole way between the two places, I was continually 
passing and being passed by peasants, on foot or in 
carts, returning home from market. Most of the men, 
and many of the women also, were without shoes and 
stockings, though not otherwise badly dressed; the 
former were clothed in blue trousers, and their hair, 
shaved off at the top, flowed wildly down behind. One 
boy had it dressed in the form of a pigtail, but tied up 
and confined at the back. The crown of the head was 
covered in most instances with a small black cap, called 
the tocou glas. They all of them had a strange, peculiar 
cast of countenance, and were wild, and even savage- 
looking men. One or two, with their dark-brown 
features and jet-black hair, seemed to me a remarkably 
near approximation to the type of the modern Hindoo. 

It is not a little singular that traces of what one 
cannot help believing to be their Oriental origin should 
still be apparent in a portion of this peculiar race, 
though not more so, perhaps, than that a handful of 
gipsies, whose migration, however, is of more modern 
date, should not in the course of centuries have been in 
any way absorbed by the people in whose land they 
dwell. The Breton having so long preserved in Europe 
his affinity in custom with other nations of the East, it 
is at any rate a somewhat remarkable coincidence that 
whilst in some parts of China yellow is the recognised 
sign of mourning, the same colour is still said to be a 



Wild- looking Peasants. 197 



badge of grief with females in certain districts of 
Brittany at this very day. 

The savage-looking people with bare feet, who were 
swarming on the road, were chiefly the inhabitants of 
Pluneour, a district into which Christianity was the 
very last to penetrate. Even long after it had been 
nominally established, this uncivilised race, descendants 
of one of the most ferocious of the Celtic tribes, con- 
tinued to practise the idolatry of their ancestors, and 
Freminville affirms that this portion of the country is 
known by many as the Lan-ar-Pagan at the present 
day. His description of these peasants accords exactly 
with what I saw of them ; only he adds that they still 
carry about their persons the formidable club, or pen- 
baz, which certainly I did not see ; but these may have 
fallen into disuse since the time he wrote. The coast 
near Pluneour and Pontusval, whither they were direct- 
ing their steps, though low, is wild and rocky, and 
these ferocious savages were once notorious wreckers, 
giving the true Cornish welcome to the unhappy seamen 
who came within their reach. Even fifty years ago, 
it is said, they had scarcely lost this ugly character ; 
nor, if physiognomy is in any way ominous, would a 
stranger in a like predicament wish to trust himself to 
their tender mercies even at this day. 

As every one is familiar with the old tradition in our 
own south-western county of the lantern tied to the 
head of the ox, in order, by imitating the pitch of the 
vessel, to deceive the unwary mariner at night, it is 
sufficient to mention that this villainous custom here 
also formerly prevailed. The prayer of the Breton 
sailor in the olden time was touching for its simple 
earnestness : " Protect me, my God ! my ship is so 
small, thy sea so vast." Even in these days it is, 



198 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



perhaps, chiefly the firmness and resolution of the men 
of the coast-guard which prevent the indiscriminate 
pillage which might otherwise ensue ; for the people 
would fain believe what their ancestors did before 
them, that everything which the waves throw up upon 
the shore is theirs. It is said that now, when at night 
a signal of distress is made, men, women, and children 
rush down to the beach with lanterns and lighted 
torches, and in the midst of the noise and confusion of 
the conflicting elements, the shouts of the guardsmen, 
the orders of the pilots, and the screams of despair from 
the driving ship, the voice of the priest, who has hurried 
to the spot to restrain the impulse of the people, may 
be heard aloud in swelling strains, repeating the prayer 
for departing souls. 

It is not surprising if, in this land of the Pagans, the 
frequent memorials of their ancient faith should be 
here more especially observed. Accordingly, we find 
that the menhir and the dolmen are by no means 
uncommon in these parts. You. pass one of the former, 
though a small one, in a field as you approach Pontusval ; 
but the largest in the neighbourhood, in fact, one of 
the chief in Finistere, erects its head in a sort of field 
or common about a mile from the hamlet, and a couple 
of furlongs from the sea-shore. It is a single piece of 
shapeless granite, about thirty- six English feet in 
height, and on its summit has been carved out a cross. 
Near it, lying on the ground, is an enormous block of 
stone, and in a field close by, a low, square, tabular sort 
of rock. It was stated in a previous chapter that all 
superstition about these mysterious monuments has 
now passed away, as information from people of every 
class satisfactorily proves. The Government schools, 
which are rapidly being established in these distant 



Inn at Lesneven. 199 

communes, will undoubtedly tend to the spread of 
civilisation amongst the unsophisticated mass. 

Pontusval turned out to be a very agreeable little 
place ; for though it may be somewhat bleak and barren, 
and though there are scarcely any trees in the neigh- 
bourhood, yet the enormous boulders scattered every- 
where about make it very picturesque. A coast-guard 
station exists close by, and has been built among the 
rocks which line the shore. 

I had been informed at Lesneven that there were 
good hotels in the village, and that it was a fashionable 
watering-place, resorted to even by people from the 
capital. This, however, in 1860 (at any rate as re- 
garded the hotels and the fashion also), it must be 
confessed, was an exaggeration, though perhaps not 
inconsistent with the ideas of my informant on such a 
subject. The better of the two houses of entertainment 
was small, and but just tolerable ; and any tourist 
anticipating luxury would be quite put out. The 
place, however, does very well for a few days in the 
summer, but would not afford sufficient comforts for a 
protracted stay. What you are generally pretty sure 
of obtaining in the way of provisions on the sea-coast 
are lobsters and crawfish, and these, with good coffee 
and fresh eggs, will always be welcome when you have 
not much appetite for anything more coarse. 

My intention was to return to town by the village of 
Pengol, in order to see the spire of the church, which 
is spoken of as of some architectural merit ; and as there 
were likewise some dolmens on the way, I determined 
to set out in the afternoon, and to remain at Pengol for 
the night. The people of the house, however, did all 
they could to dissuade me from my purpose, and 
declared there wasn't a fit place in the village in which 



200 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



any human being could put up. Imagining that this 
migh t be only a pretext to try and detain me at the inn, 
I gave no heed to their counsel, but resolved, under any 
circumstances, to push on. 

Haying been successful in my search for the dolmens, 
I proceeded across the sands, a distance of perhaps 
nearly two miles, to Pengol, the spire of whose church 
stood out a conspicuous object on the confines of the 
opposite bay, and served as an unerring guide. On 
coming up to it, it proved to be built in imitation of 
the steeple of the Kreisker Church at St. Pol de Leon, 
though not nearly so lofty. The base of the spire un- 
doubtedly projects rather too much over the tower for per- 
fect elegance, though, on the whole, it is certainly one of 
the best of the many imitations of its grand original, and 
is unusually handsome for a village church. I was 
subsequently told that a few years ago it was loftier 
still than it is at present, but it was struck by light- 
ning, and the commune, most unfortunately, for lack 
of funds, was unable to carry it up to its former 
height. The rest of the church is not correspondingly 
beautiful, though the design, in the first place, was 
very fair. The roof, which was evidently meant to be 
of stone, is now of wood; and paint and whitewash 
have done their worst. 

The two public-houses of the village were close to 
the church — most wretched and inhospitable establish- 
ments — and so unaccustomed were they to see strangers, 
that at neither of them were the people willing to take 
me in. At last, after considerable difficulty, I obtained 
the promise of accommodation in one of them, and a 
young man, with very high shoulders and slightly 
deformed, came up-stairs to show me into a room. 
The first of the sleeping apartments opened on to the 



Guide to the Dolmens. 201 



staircase, and was without any door. It contained 
three beds. Adjacent to this was another small room, 
which required certainly great strength of mind to 
decide on putting up with. It was the choice, how- 
ever, between this and none ; and so, after considerable 
hesitation, I decided upon accepting it. 

After I had done so I found that this high- shouldered 
man, who had shown me up- stairs, was the village 
schoolmaster, and that he had very politely given up 
his own room, consenting to take one of the beds in the 
adjacent chamber. A drunken, swaggering fellow, a 
Frenchman, who had represented himself as the land- 
lord, I discovered to be a journeyman stonemason, and 
merely a lodger in the house. As there was a dolmen 
to be seen in the neighbourhood, I thought it the best 
plan to make as much as I could of the remaining day- 
light, and to set out in search of it at once, in order to 
be able to leave these disagreeable quarters the first 
thing the next morning, for I should have starved had 
I been compelled to sojourn here very long — a cup of 
coffee and some wine being the only refreshments I 
could bring myself to swallow in that filthy house. 

The dolmen being difficult to find, the schoolmaster 
obligingly volunteered to come and show me the way 
to it. It stands in a secluded field, about a mile from 
the village. The huge stone, which forms the roof, 
rests at one end on an inconceivably small support, 
almost in fact a point. The height of the interior is 
about six feet. My guide was rather an intelligent 
man, and, from the answers he gave to my inquiries, I 
have no doubt that a slow though certain change in the 
manners and language of the inhabitants must be taking 
place. He told me that the peasants now never wear 
their ancient picturesque costumes, except at weddings, 



202 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



and when they are carrying the image of the Virgin 
on some important day. 

Notwithstanding this degeneracy, the labourers of 
Pengol had still a distinctive character in their dress : 
they were not such wild-looking men as the people of 
Pluneour ; in fact, they appeared to be of quite a 
different race, and were of a somewhat superior height. 
I asked him if he taught the Breton language in his 
school. He told me no ; that it was forbidden by 
Government ; and that he spoke it only when it was 
absolutely necessary to convey his meaning to some 
scholar who was not yet strong in French. As the 
Breton, however, becomes less frequent, it is easy to 
foresee that an almost equally great inconvenience will 
spring up, and that in the course of time a mongrel 
dialect may possibly take its place. 

The schoolmaster told me he had lived for some 
time in the neighbourhood of Rennes, and that the 
people there spoke a patois which he was quite unable 
to understand. This we can readily conceive. I one 
morning accosted a peasant at Perros.Guirec, who, to my 
surprise, did not know the Breton for " Good morning." 
Although his own native tongue was the one with 
which he was most familiar, and though he told me 
how to pronounce the sentence when I repeated it to 
him, he said he had never heard it, and would not have 
known what it meant. The people in that country 
will always greet you with a bonjour, even though they 
know nothing more of French. It is thus that one 
language becomes incorporated as it were into the 
other, whilst a degeneracy must be observed in each. 
The policy of the Government is doubtless a wise one, 
but the pure and unadulterated Breton, which is a true 
and ancient language, is infinitely preferable to the 



The Mayor of PengoL 203 



modern and ungrammatical patois which in all proba- 
bility will supervene. 

On my return to the inn, I sat talking in the 
kitchen (which was the only public apartment, and 
that a dirty one) with the people of the house till 
about half-past nine o'clock, when on a sudden I per- 
ceived several persons entering at the front door/ They 
did not, however, advance into the kitchen, but stood 
talking and drinking wine together at the counter in 
the adjacent room. One of these men was the land- 
lord, who had just returned from Brest. His son, who 
was lounging at the huge fire-place, here mentioned 
something in an undertone, at the same time drawing 
our attention to one of the recent in-comers, who un- 
doubtedly must be some important personage by the 
feelings of veneration which he excited ir the youthful 
mind. 

As he several times repeated the extraordinary fact, 
I at last ventured to inquire who the individual was. 
It was the highest and most powerful functionary of 
the district ; it was the Right Worshipful the Mayor 
— the Mayor of Pengol ! Great as the privilege 
must have been in his company, there was scarcely 
light enough to inspect his features ; I could only 
perceive that the chief magistrate was a peasant, and 
that he was regaling himself at the counter with wine 
or brandy, probably with both. 

In that portion of the kitchen in which I was 
seated were three of those dark, close cupboards with 
sliding doors, otherwise Breton beds, which looked 
very likely places for the harbouring of illicit live- 
stock ; and the landlady, who had already given pre- 
monitory symptoms of her wish that I should make 
myself scarce, now plainly told me that she wanted to 



204 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



retire for the night, as she was very sleepy, and had 
been up since three o'clock. I said I was only waiting 
for a candle ; and the next moment, with all her clothes 
on, she had tumbled into the box ; her daughter at the 
same time disappearing into the deep recesses of 
another in the same condition. A few minutes after- 
wards I went up- stairs, but I had not been in the room 
very long when I heard some one knocking at the 
door. It was the landlord, who came to ask me to go 
below and inscribe my name. I accordingly went 
down-stairs, where I saw a knot of men seated round 
the table which I had lately left. One of these was the 
mayor of Pengol, who demanded my passport in a 
gruff and business-like tone of voice. 

I told him I hadn't it with me. " Where do you come 
from then, I should like to know ? " inquired the chief 
magistrate with a thick articulation and suspicious 
indistinctness ; for the wine which he had just been 
taking was probably not the only good cheer in which 
he had indulged during the day ; and I at once per- 
ceived, somewhat to my dismay, that the great civic 
functionary was what is vulgarly termed " in his 
cups." 

I replied that I had come from a little village in the 
neighbourhood in the course of the afternoon ; for just 
at that moment I was unable to recall the name of 
Pontusval to my mind. 

" That's not my question," growled he out angrily ; 
u I wish to know where you come from ; I'm the 
mayor, and it's my duty to find out." 

" Well, I tell you I came from the neighbouring 
hamlet, where I passed the previous night." 

" But that's not an answer to my question," he con- 
tinued furiously ; "I require to be informed who you 



A Dilemma. 



205 



are, and to see your papers ; and you shan't stir from 
the house until I know. I'm the mayor, and I'm ful- 
filling niy duty in finding out." 

I told him that my papers were at Lesneven, where 
I had left them the day before. 

" Why haven't you your papers with you then ? " 
said he. " No honest man would ever think of travel- 
ling without carrying them about." 

I endeavoured to explain that I had only just come 
over for a day or two, and had not thought it worth 
while to bring them. This, however, would by no 
means satisfy him, for he seemed either unwilling or 
unable to comprehend the case. I had previously 
written down my name on a piece of paper which the 
mayor had handed over to the schoolmaster to read ; 
but now, when he asserted that I could not be a tra- 
veller, I said I would go to my room and bring down a 
hand-book of the department of Finistere, in order to 
convince him of the fact. I accordingly went up to 
fetch it, and when I handed it to his worship, that 
learned functionary raised it close to his eyes, with one 
corner upwards, and leered upon it with a Bacchanalian 
look. Having thus examined it, he gave it to the 
schoolmaster, requesting him to read it, adding at the 
same time that he was somewhat near of sight. I am 
afraid, however, if the truth were known, that the 
education of the chief magistrate of Pengol had been 
neglected by his parents in his early life. This faith- 
ful servant of the Emperor was certainly less shrewd 
than obstinate, for the next moment he declared that 
the book would not satisfy him. " It's your papers I 
require/' he growled out ; " no honest man would be 
travelling without them." 

I replied that I was an Englishman, and was not 



206 



The Pardon of Guingamp, 



aware that when I was merely taking a walk, it was 
indispensable I should be continually carrying them 
about. 

"I don't believe what you say," answered he, with 
more bluntness than politeness ; " I'm sure you're not 
an Englishman ; you speak French too well for that." 

Perhaps, if his worship had been a Frenchman instead 
of a Breton, he might have understood more readily 
that I was in reality what he thus denied me to be ; 
but as he himself was principally conversant with the 
language of his own province, he could not so easily 
find it out. The best of reasoning, however, is but 
labour thrown away upon a drunken man, more espe- 
cially if stupidity and ignorance are combined ; and 
this poor old peasant could not for an instant be 
brought to believe that, even admitting I was a 
foreigner as I professed myself, I could be otherwise 
than familiar with every little habit and custom of the 
country ; nor yet that I could have been, to say the 
least of it, an honest man, and yet so grossly negligent 
as to go out for a walk and leave my papers behind me 
in the house. His only reply to the every endeavour 
which I made to convince him was a demand for my 
passport, and the remark that though I might be the 
very first person in the land for aught he knew, yet he 
certainly would not believe me till convinced in his own 
mind ; and he added that he would send a messenger 
into Lesneven to summon the police, who would them- 
selves conduct me into the town. 

To this I made no reply ; for knowing that my pass- 
port was safe in my hat-box, the above proceeding 
would have been by far the best way to cut the matter 
short ; the gensdarmes, moreover, are usually more or 
less men of certain education, and they would be fa** 



A Court of Inqitiry. 



207 



too sensible to commit themselves, or do anything 
absurd, without some well-grounded cause. 

The schoolmaster, however, on the mayor's remark, 
at once suggested that I would rather pay him a trifle 
to compromise the matter than be conducted into town 
like a prisoner by the police. It was not certainly 
complimentary to this faithful servant of the Emperor 
even to insinuate for a moment that his high sense of 
duty might not be altogether deaf to the eloquence of a 
five-franc piece, nor did I agree to the proposition ; 
but whether or not, by entertaining such mercenary 
views of his character, the schoolmaster was maligning 
him, in a short time the worthy magistrate had con- 
siderably softened down. " Tranquillisez-vous, tran- 
quillisez-vous," after a while was his reply; " to- 
morrow you'll find me the best fellow in the world." 

" I hope so," I added ; " but for the present it's 
rather hard that a person's word should be doubted in 
such a way as this." 

The mayor having thus dispensed justice to his satis- 
faction, the court of inquiry was about to be closed, for 
his worship concluded by telling me that I might now 
retire, and that on the following morning, when the 
police arrived, it would be satisfactorily determined 
whether in reality my assertion was correct. Pre- 
ferring, therefore, to take advantage of his gracious 
permission, I left these acute legal gentlemen to debate 
the important matter further among themselves. 

Now, although the presence of the chief magistrate 
ought to have been a sufficient guarantee that for the 
remaining period of my sojourn under this hospitable 
roof I should, in the language of the gifted poet-tailor 
of the Minories, in one of his flowing Mosaics, have 
been " free from intrusion," and " in perfect seclusion," 



2o8 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



yet as, after his departure, I was to have for my next- 
door neighbour the elevated stonemason, remembering, 
moreover, that I was a member of the family of the 
great Mr. Bull, I thought it might possibly be of some 
advantage to wrap myself in the traditional impenetra- 
bility of a British subject, in case he should think it 
incumbent on himself, for the credit of his country, as 
he appeared not disinclined, to avenge Waterloo. The 
fact, however, of my unexcited demeanour during these 
absurd proceedings may have given perhaps some 
colour to their belief of my being either a political 
agent, or else an escaped felon from the prisons of 
Brest. Had I worked myself up into a passion like 
his worship, my claims to injured innocence would 
have been far more strong. Scarcely, therefore, had I 
left the room than I came back again, and reminded 
them that Englishmen before now, whilst travelling on 
the Continent, had been put to unnecessary inconve- 
nience on the subject of their passports, and had ap- 
pealed in consequence to their Government for redress, 
and that were I to be molested in any way whilst 
remaining in the house, I would follow their example 
and do the same. It was about one of the last things, 
certainly, I should have thought of doing, but I fancied 
the mention of it might have the effect of impressing 
on their minds that after all I was an Englishman, 
notwithstanding their affecting to doubt my assurance 
on this point. 

Vain delusion ! What in the world was England or 
the English Government to the simple inhabitants of 
this remote commune ? I might as well have hinted at 
the dreadful vengeance of King Theodore of Abyssinia, 
of whose paternal administration they knew about as 
much. Had I spoken to them of the possibility of 



Fermez la Porte! 



incurring the rebuke of the authorities at Brest, and 
of my laying a complaint in that quarter, it would 
have been at once the most reasonable and effective 
plan. The worthy magistrate, indeed, knew of but 
two great governments in the world — that of France, 
of whose Emperor he was the faithful and devoted 
servant, and that of Pengol, of which he was himself 
the mayor. 

The moment succeeding this injudicious appeal to 
the British protectorate was like the brief but solemn 
interval between the flash of the lightning and the 
bursting of the thunder- cloud overhead. It was broken 
by the stentorian voice of his offended worship, who 
roared out as well as the thickness of his articulation 
would permit him, and with the tremendous energy of 
a wounded elephant, these portentous words : — 

" Fermez la porte ! " A pause. 

" Entendez-vous ce qu'il dit ? He says he'll write to 
the governor. He means to threaten us. Ill teach 
him what it is. He insinuates by this that England is 
more powerful than France/' 

I don't know whether the chief magistrate wanted 
to decide the point by single combat, but none of the 
other members of the court replied to the command, 
and I merely answered that I had insinuated no such 
thing. 

" Fermez la porte ! " again roared his worship, with 
the indisputable authority of a provincial mayor ; but 
no one stirred, for all were waiting to see what he 
would do. 

The excitement of this village functionary was now 
redoubled, and he gave instructions to the schoolmaster 
to draw up a letter forthwith to the police, which, 
accordingly, the secretary in attendance began to do. 

p 



2IO 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



My timid advocate politely asked me at what hotel I 
liad alighted at Lesneven. I replied that I was un- 
acquainted with the name. " How is that?" screamed 
out the judge. " You say you do not know the name ? 
Where, then, will you find your passport, if you are in 
ignorance where to look for the house?" I said that 
if I were at Lesneven I should have no difficulty in 
discovering it, but still, for all that, I was unacquainted 
with the name. 

" In what street is it, then ?" continued he. 
I replied again that I did not know, but that if the 
messenger who carried the letter made application at 
several of the hotels in the town he would be certain 
eventually to find out the house. 

Trusting to this, therefore, I proceeded to write a 
few lines to the landlord, remarking at the same time 
to the president of the court of inquiry, that it would 
be quite sufficient for him to send my hat-box, instead 
of all my luggage, as had been suggested, because it 
was in that particular item of my encumbrances that 
the passport was to be found. 

" The passport in your hat-box ! " shrieked forth the 
stonemason. " What a thing to put it in ! No honest 
man would ever dream of keeping his papers in such a 
place as that." 

This worthy individual (he was a Frenchman, not a 
Breton) had from the first thought it his duty to sup- 
port the mayor with all the offensive vulgarity of the 
lowest breeding; and, as the landlord now began to 
chime in, my chance of successfully dealing with this 
united mass of intelligence grew less and less. The 
poor timid secretary, indeed, whilst evidently believing 
in the innocence of his client, had not the courage to 
declare his opinion openly, though an attempt at a 



A Threatened Cordo7t. 



211 



suitable explanation from the representative of the 
learning and talent of Pengol would have operated 
infinitely more to their enlightenment than all the best 
arguments which I myself could have used. Whilst 
clearly, therefore, there was a powerful crown prose- 
cutor, it could scarcely be said that I had been retaining 
an advocate for the defence. 

As for the mayor, the liquor he had imbibed was 
only making him the more idiotic and obstinate every 
moment, and he harped incessantly on the same theme : 
" You shan't stir out of the house/' was his vehement 
declaration, " until the arrival of the gensdarmes ; 
and if I think there's any chance of your escaping, I 
shall certainly put a cordon of men as guards around 
the place. I'm the mayor ! and if you don't believe 
me, I'll send at once for my papers to convince you of 
the fact. I've sworn fidelity to the Emperor, and I'll 
do my duty." 

I was well aware, though I had imprudently over- 
looked it, that I was not in rule without my passport ; 
and I likewise knew that the mayor of every paltry 
little commune in France had a right to ask for it ; 
and that, accordingly, I was in the power of this con- 
ceited functionary, who had all the appearance of an 
ordinary peasant, and was only a degree more exalted 
than the labourers of the place. I therefore saw that 
my only plan was to try and put him in a good 
humour, and to meet him at his weak point, and so 
endeavour to assure him that I quite believed, since he 
so confidently affirmed it, that he was indeed the 
mayor, and that I felt, moreover, he had a perfect 
right to ask me for my papers, and for that reason 
would not trouble him for a moment to send for his. 
This undoubtedly gratified his vanity ; but instead of 



2 12 The Pardon of Guingamp, 



making him less ferocious, it only seemed to heighten 
the innate sense of his own authority, for he repeatedly 
after that assured me, with exultation, that he was 
indeed the mayor, and would send at once for the 
necessary proof, if I denied the fact. 

Whenever, for a moment, he ceased to speak, his 
brother in the cups, the turbulent Frenchman, took up 
the attack, and flourishing about a table-knife with 
unpleasant freedom, declared that no honest man would 
ever have thought of leaving his passport at an hotel. 
It was useless to repeat, that having never before been 
troubled for it in that manner, I had quite forgotten 
that though only travelling in the interior a short dis- 
tance from Lesneven, I was liable to be asked for it at 
any moment — he was too obstinate or too drunk to 
understand the argument. " You should have brought 
it with you," he continued, as he jerked the table- 
knife. " Every honest man takes his papers about with 
him wherever he goes. What did you do with them 
when you came into the town P" 

" Not being asked for them, I left them in my hat- 
box." 

" Well, I've never heard of such a thing before ! 
You went to an hotel, and neglected to give them up ! " 

"The people of the house should have asked for 
them," I answered. " The business was theirs, not 
mine." 

The hope, however, was forlorn that I could bring 
them to reason — for reasoning with drunken men is 
merely hopeless — and the question asked was inces- 
santly the same, " Where is your passport? Why 
haven't you brought it ? You're travelling without it. 
You cannot be an honest man." 

Yet, in the midst of his stupid denunciations, a 



Wise Men of Pengol. 213 

gleam of rationality would occasionally dawn upon the 
obstinacy of the mayor, and he more than once calmed 
down and told me to reassure myself, because on the 
morrow I would find him the best fellow in the world. 
I told him I hoped so, but that in England it was not 
considered the best of compliments to accuse a person 
so pertinaciously of falsehood and dishonesty before 
you found him out. All the reply, however, which he 
gave to this was the blunt assurance that he didn't 
believe me to be an Englishman, and that he gave no 
credit to what I said. 

It would take up a great deal too much space to 
write down everything which passed ; but after a con- 
siderable amount of angry blustering and violent de- 
clamation on their part, I left them to themselves, and 
went up to bed ; the mayor having more than once in- 
formed me that the landlord would stand surety for my 
remaining in the house, and that if he thought there 
was a chance of my meditating an escape, he would 
place a chain of sentinels around the house ! 

These wise men of Pengol kept their addled heads 
together for yet another half-hour, and I therefore 
allowed my candle to burn itself out. As for the 
Frenchman, he was still violently excited, and he came 
up- stairs grinding his teeth and cursing loudly, in 
evident allusion to what had lately passed. There was, 
however, no attempt made to demonstrate that France 
was stronger than England ; and the deep mutterings 
of the enemy having shortly ceased, an unmusical 
snorting after a while announced that the reign of 
Morpheus had begun. Upon this I followed the 
example of my neighbours, and fell off likewise to my 
peaceful slumbers. 

It was already broad daylight when they were first 



214 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



broken by the stirring of the house, and the incessant 
noise of a cluster of people who were talking and drink- 
ing in the shop below. I fancied from this it must be 
rather late, but, on referring to my watch, ascertained 
that it was only yet half- past four. On glancing at 
the window, I noticed a line of about twenty or thirty 
uncouth -looking men drawn up in the road, all strongly 
armed with pickaxes and spades. I was wondering for 
a moment whether there could be anything of con- 
nection between this band of people and the threatened 
cordon which was to surround the house, but, unfor- 
tunately for romance, I was subsequently informed that 
they were the labourers of the canton who were being 
drafted off to their apportioned work. 

I went off to sleep again till about six o'clock, and as 
breakfast in that dirty auberge would haye been out of 
the question, I went below to find out at what time the 
gensdarmes were expected to arrive. " They were 
sent for last night," said the schoolmaster, " and they'll 
soon be here." " I hope so," I replied, " for if they 
didn't come till the afternoon, I should miss the dili- 
gence to Brest." Upon this he followed me up-stairs 
to the room through which I had just passed in coming 
out of mine, and, sure enough, though I had not 
noticed him, there in bed, with a worsted nightcap, lay 
the great civic functionary, the trusty and faithful 
servant of the Emperor, the high and right worshipful 
the mayor ! 

He had slept at the public-house instead of going 
home for the night, as the hour of his return from 
Brest was late. Who knows, however, if his worship 
had attempted it, that he ever would have reached his 
home at all ? It was much more prudent of him 
therefore (except, perhaps, for the anxiety of the Lady 



Arrival of the Police. 



215 



Mayoress — the gay deceiver!) to act as he did; and 
being now in a sober state of mind, he was quite 
another man* The suspicious thickness in his speech 
had vanished, and he at once declared that he had no 
wish to detain me, but that I could take my departure 
immediately the gensdarmes had arrived. This, how- 
ever, I did not require the chief magistrate to tell me, 
for had he still been drunk I might, had I been so 
inclined, have turned the tables and handed him over 
to their care, there being in conspicuous letters in the 
shop below an " arret contre 1'ivrogHerie." 

As I knew he would feel too much ashamed to make 
any further reference to what he had said the previous 
evening about my not leaving the house, I made the 
most of the remaining time by taking a walk through 
the village and going up the tower of the church to 
obtain a view. Shortly after my return the gensdarmes 
arrived on horseback. I told them they had had a 
great deal of unnecessary trouble, to which they politely 
replied that was nothing new to them, whilst evidently 
by their manner they did not think me one of the most 
likely candidates for Cayenne. They then went into 
the public-house, where the mayor sat down and gave 
them an explanation of the case : the crime being that 
I was without a passport. Meanwhile, I ordered some 
wine for the schoolmaster in acknowledgment of his 
civility, and told him what I thought of the rudeness 
of the mayor. He, however, as one of the subjects of 
the chief magistrate, who might possibly overhear us, 
was evidently anxious to be on the best of terms with 
such a powerful functionary, and merely suggested that 
he had only been fulfilling his duty in acting as he did. 

" Did it not then strike you/' said I, " that he was 
tipsy last night ?" 



2 1 6 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



" Oh, lie had taken a little something to drink very 
likely, but not enough to make him very drunk." 

" Enough at least to make him very uncivil/' I 
replied. 

" The fact is," said the other, " he thought you were 
defying him, and he was very much vexed when you 
threatened to write to your Government ; it was this 
that made him so annoyed." 

I answered I had done it for my own security, for I 
was in the midst of strangers of whom I knew nothing. 
I had not thought that the mayor himself was likely to 
go further than with his very offensive manner, but I 
deemed it prudent to claim some protection against the 
insolence of the stonemason, who, being drunk and 
quarrelsome, was ready at any moment for a brawl ; 
and the mayor himself was far too excited to have pre- 
vented such an annoyance if it had once begun. 

A few moments afterwards, his worship coming up 
to where I was seated, began to speak to me in some- 
what of an apologetic strain. I told him I did not at 
all complain of the exercise of his legal functions, but 
of the unnecessary rudeness which he had displayed. 
He attempted to assure me that he was by no means 
rude. " What ! " said I, " not when you so angrily 
asserted that I was telling lies, and that you did not 
believe me to be an Englishman ? In our country, as 
I told you, that would be the greatest insult you could 
offer." 

" Then you and I think quite differently," replied 
he ; " for my part, I make it a rule to suspect every- 
body until I know who and what he is." 

One of the gensdarmes now coming up to us, I com- 
plained to him of the manner in which the investiga- 
tion had been conducted, when his conscience-stricken 



The Mayor' *s Logic. 



217 



worship at once replied, " Perhaps you may have 
fancied I was drunk last night ; I'm much more tipsy 
now than I was then. I've certainly taken a little 
something to drink this morning, but I was as sober as 
possible last night." 

" Excuse me then, Monsieur le Maire," said I, " in 
that case it strikes me you're much less civil when 
you're sober than when you're drunk." 

The chief magistrate to this made no reply, but he 
was again beginning to become excited, for he assured 
me he did not for one instant regret what he had done, 
and that had not the schoolmaster been under the 
impression that I was an honest individual, and had he 
not in consequence given me up his room, he would 
have ordered me to the church tower for the night ! 

This, I suppose, was merely a return compliment, 
but he again continued, " I'm glad, however, to find 
that you're an honest person, and I don't wish to press 
the matter any further against you, so you can at once 
return to Lesneven, and merely show your passport to 
the gensdarmes when you arrive." 

" But how do you know," said I, " that I'm an 
honest person ? How can you assert it any more this 
morning than you could last night ? It's quite im- 
possible ; you mustn't think of doing so till my pass- 
port has been seen." 

" No," answered the mayor, " I won't, for I still 
have my suspicions on the subject." 

" Just as you like," I retorted, " but it matters to 
me very little what you think. It's with the gens- 
darmes only I have now to do, and not with yourself ; 
it's rather, in fact, my own turn to prosecute than yours 
to accuse me." 

He was evidently struck with this new idea, so he 



2 I 8 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



again declared that lie was very glad to find I was an 
honest person, and that the next time I came to Pen- 
gol he would not ask me for my passport, but wqnld 
welcome me at once. 

I told him it was not at all likely I should ever again 
come to Pengol, and so, after settling my score with 
the landlord and wishing him good morning, I set out 
for Lesneven on foot. The gensdarmes of course 
remained behind at the public-house, and must have 
left it about half an hour afterwards, for they saluted 
me on the road as they hurried past, a mile or two 
from the entrance of the town. 

Having reached my destination, I took out the pass- 
port and carried it to the police-office to show it to the 
two men, who expressed themselves sorry that I should 
have taken the trouble to come to them, as they them- 
selves would have called to see it at the hotel. They 
took notes carefully of its contents, and I was subse- 
quently told that, in the fulfilment of their duty, they 
would have had to send the particulars of the case to 
Paris, and that most probably a telegraphic message 
was forwarded at once. 

I may add that I saw one of these men the same 
afternoon at Landerneau, a distance of about twelve 
miles from Lesneven, and again a few days afterwards 
at Brest, where a mutual recognition took place be- 
tween us. He possibly, in answer to his telegraphic 
message, may have received orders to watch my pro- 
ceedings, especially as I had informed him, in answer 
to his inquiry, of the place of my destination, a town 
over which, with respect to foreigners, a very jealous 
eye is kept. No one who is acquainted with the police 
system on the Continent will have any difficulty in 
understanding this, however absurd it may appear; 



Departure from PengoL 219 



and it would be immediately known where I was 
putting up, as the keeper of every hotel and lodging- 
house throughout the country is required, under a 
severe penalty, to send in daily to the authorities the 
name of every one who goes and comes. 

After all, this was no more than natural from the 
magnitude which had been given to a mere ordinary 
circumstance by the zealous but ignorant magistrate of 
Pengol ; for how was it to be ascertained that I was 
not in reality a political agent, as the authorities in 
Paris, not knowing his credulity, would necessarily 
deem it prudent to attach some importance to the sus- 
picions of that primitive mayor ? That in his simplicity 
he gave them grounds for believing it, will be here- 
after shown. That worthy functionary assured me, on 
leaving, that when next I passed through Pengol, he 
would not ask me for my passport ; he little thought, 
however, that the right of demanding it from an 
Englishman would so speedily be taken from him. It 
is to be hoped that the mayors of all remote communes 
in France have been duly made acquainted with the 
fact. The suspicious nature of an uneducated Breton 
was no less exemplified in this instance than in the 
case of the old soldier near St. Pol de Leon, who, 
the previous week, had taken me for an emissary of 
Henri Cinq. 



220 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



A BEETON WELCOME. 



At eve a traveller by a peaceful coast 

O'er sandy wastes his toilsome way doth win ; 

Footsore and weary, mine indulgent host, 
He seeks the welcome of this wayside inn. 

His jonrney o'er, th' invigorating fare, 
The blazing fire, and the blest repose, 

Such grateful rest anticipates he here, 
To sweet fatigue the luxury who owes. 

False hope ! the house, with scarce-conceal'd alarm, 
Breathes hush'd suspicion of its guest ; behold ! 

How swift dissolves the late illusive charm ! 
Ne'er stray'd a stranger to a hearth so cold. 

By nightmares dire the hamlet sore oppress' d, 
Till dawning reason shall the cheat dispel, 

Eaves but of treason, as the hapless guest 
In the guest-chamber sees a felon's cell. 

How, 'neath yon subtle enemy's enthral, 
Shall justice hold her even-handed reign, 

When reason comes not to the fitful call, 
And sense deserts the much-o'erheated brain ? 

Oh, tranquil village by the slumbering sea, 
Why the world scrutiny with jaundiced eyes, 

What range of vision shall with thine agree ? 
Too wary landlord, listen and be wise. 

Who next, your hospitality to claim, 

Looms, a lone pilgrim in the waning day, 

Test not too soon his mission or his name, 
So but his honest reckoning he pay. 



CHAPTER XV. 



A Wedding.— Church of the Folgoat. — Tradition. — Funeral Service, 
— On to Landerneau. — Eclipse. — Approach to Brest. — Description 
of the Town. — The Castle. — The Eecouvrance, — Seaman's Hymn. 

HE inn at Lesneven where I had stowed away 
my luggage was in great commotion the morn- 
ing of my return. When I went up-stairs 
to fetch the passport, I perceived that all my effects 
had been removed to another chamber, and that the 
closet in which they first were placed had, by the 
demolishing of a thin partition, been thrown open into 
a neighbouring room. I soon ascertained that the 
cause of the tumult was an approaching wedding, the 
bride elect being the chambermaid of the house. I 
had likewise noticed at the bar of the hotel a gigantic 
gensdarme in a bran-new uniform, and shortly recog- 
nised him as having been one of my fellow-passengers 
in the diligence from St. Pol de Leon, a few days 
before. 

Who in the world could have been a smarter bride- 
groom, or who on his wedding-day could have been 
happier than he ? That hard and brawny man, so 
stern and invincible in his aspect, was, at any rate that 
morning, as quiet and gentle . as a lamb. He was a 
widower with an only child ; and at the prospect of his 
approaching nuptials, as contented and as happy as a 
prince. I offered him my congratulations on the 
auspicious incident, and I believe he was on the point 




222 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



of giving me an invitation to the festivities, when I 
told him I was going to leave Lesneven in the after- 
noon. The house was, as I have said, in as great a 
state of excitement as the importance of the occasion 
warranted. The kitchen, the door of which was open, 
seemed full of cooks ; and an immense amount of frying 
and stewing and culinary preparations of every sort 
were going on. In a large shed behind the inn a long 
row of tables had been liberally laid out, apparently 
for about fifty guests. As for the poor landlord, who 
was almost dumb from an impediment in his speech, 
and expressed himself principally by sign and gesticu- 
lation, in the exuberance of his spirits he was seizing 
every one who came near him by the hand. At length 
the procession, in which white kid gloves were by no 
means wanting, started in due order for the mairie, 
and when the civil ceremony had been performed, ad- 
journed from thence for the more solemn one to the 
church. 

On their return to the inn, the guests went up- stairs 
into the room which had been enlarged for them, to 
enjoy themselves for the remainder of the day. They 
soon began to dance to the sound of a fiddle, and with 
so much heartiness and zest that the floor seemed every 
moment in danger of falling in. As for the happy 
bridegroom, Terpsichore didn't appear to be his tute- 
lary goddess ; or perhaps it wasn't customary at that 
moment that she should ; but whilst the ceiling over- 
head was trembling and shaking, he, like a gallant 
husband, was talking soft words of love and gentleness 
to his new-made wife, and caressing his only child. 

It is impossible not to notice, as you pass through 
Brittany, the kindness and consideration of landlords of 
hotels in smaller towns to their own dependants ; in 



Chapel of the Folgoat. 



223 



fact, the mutual good- will, almost patriarchal, which 
subsists between employer and employed. The former 
seem to treat their servants more, indeed, as members 
of their family ; and these quite look upon their 
masters in the light of friends. The wedding-feast 
that day, with its accompanying preparations, must 
have cost the owner of the house perhaps his three 
weeks' profit ; but if the girl in whose honour it was 
made had been his niece or daughter, he could not have 
been more happy and delighted than he was, 

The only object in the vicinity of Lesneven which 
appears to be worth seeing is the Church of the Fol- 
goat, or Foll-goet, which signifies " fou du bois : " 
the word coat or coet or goet (as coed in Welsh) being 
used promiscuously for a wood. The building is 
scarcely a mile out of the town ; and its handsome 
spire, in the style of that of the Kreisker Church at 
St. Pol, announces in the distance the presence of an 
important edifice on the spot. This probably in former 
times, though not, of course, ranking above the cathe- 
drals, was one of the most beautiful churches in Brit- 
tany ; but at present, though partially restored, its 
lamentable state of dilapidation detracts much from its 
interest as a monument of art. The original splendour 
and perfection in its every detail of this fine Gothic 
building are spoken of voluminously by every writer. 
After their descriptions it does not prove, perhaps, 
altogether as large as may have been anticipated ; and 
with its condition at the present day one cannot but be 
much disappointed. The greater portion of its beauti- 
ful sculpture and ornamentation was destroyed at the 
Revolution, and the ceiling of the interior is of wood, 
the brackets only of the roof appearing. The altar, 
however, and the stone screen of the choir are delicate 



224 



The Pardon of Gttingamp. 



and grand. The church was begun by Duke J ohn IV. ; 
and Anne of Brittany had also her share in the em- 
bellishment of the edifice. The story of the idiot 
Salaiin who frequented the place, and the tradition of 
the miracle which followed his death, are well known. 

" There, like a solitary sparrow, he warbled the 
praises of the adorable Virgin, to whom, after the 
Deity, he consecrated his heart." So thus for forty 
years he led his lonely life ; and then, when sick- 
ness hurt and wore him, "that Holy Lady who is 
never far from those who seek her, lent him the conso- 
lations of her loving presence, approaching near him 
with her guard of angels, and surrounded with mys- 
terious light Our lonely poor one, feeling 

within himself that his end approached, caused the 
echo of his voice, like the note of the turtle-dove, to 
wail around, to proclaim that the winter of his life was 
past. Dying, he made utterance of that sweetest name, 
and then his spirit, innocent and pure, was wafted to 
its distant home. His visage, which in life was marred 
with want, became in death so luminous and sweet, 
that truly might his countenance have been said to vie 
with the fairness of the lily and the beauty of the rose. 
And now, not far from his favourite fountain, by the 
tree which so long sheltered him, was his body found ; 
and here, at this very spot, did his neighbours bear 
him to his peaceful grave." 

But a few short months only followed on his decease, 
when a fair white lily was perceived to flourish on that 
sacred place ; and the words which in life had been 
ever on his lips, even Ave Maria, were graven on that 
flower in characters of gold. Then it was they re- 
membered the devotion of the recluse to his tutelary 
Virgin, and they ceased to doubt that the " Mother of 



Legend of the Folgoat. 225 



Grod " was fain to show how pleasing to her mind was 
the pious homage of her faithful son. So, at rumour 
of this miracle, did a crowd of lords and mighty digni- 
taries proceed to the tomb of this^ darling subject of the 
" Queen of Heaven ;" and John V. himself sent depu- 
ties to the spot, who acknowledged, when the body was 
displayed to view, that this royal flower had indeed 
miraculously sprung upwards from his sainted mouth. 

" On peut croire ce qu'on voudra d'un tel miracle," 
says one, " quoiqu'il en soit, il fit grand bruit and 
of the latter part of this reflection there cannot be 
the slightest doubt. The fountain in which the idiot 
bathed himself is still in existence under the altar of 
the church. Duke John IV., who had been made 
acquainted with the reputed prodigy by the inhabitants 
of the place, had originally erected a small chapel on 
the spot ; but previous to the battle of Auray he vowed, 
if victorious over Charles de Blois, that he would sub- 
stitute a grander building in its stead. That he kept 
his vow the structure testifies. Near the church is the 
pedestal of a cross, erected by Cardinal de Coetivy, and 
also a handsome and spacious building for the accom- 
modation of pilgrims, raised by the Duchess Anne. A 
considerable village has sprung up at Folgoat, but there 
is nothing at all pleasing or rural in its appearance ; 
and if anything could detract from the interest, not of 
the miracle, but of the tradition, and from the local 
connection with John IV. and his victory at Auray, it 
is decidedly the aspect of this modern village, which 
begins to hem it closely in. 

There was a grand funeral service going on within 
the church as I entered, and nearly two hundred people 
must have been taking part in it. I was told it was a 
solemnity for the repose of the soul of one of the former 

Q 



226 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



mayors of Lesneven. Twenty-four hours previously 
his daughter's marriage had been celebrated in the 
same place; and here, the day afterwards — what a 
curious custom! — had the guests exchanged their 
festive attire for the doleful garb of grief, looking on a 
pall which covered a coffin, embroidered with skulls and 
tears. The act may have been a pious one on the part 
of the bride, but I should have preferred attending it a 
week before. We have heard of the king of Macedon, 
who instructed one of his pages to cry aloud every 
morning at the door of his chamber, " Philip, thou art 
mortal ! " Maybe, therefore, similarly, it is meant by 
this that the lesson should be salutary, in order to 
temper with thoughtfulness the impulse of excessive 
joy, by reminding humanity, in the midst of its gayest 
revels, that there is a skeleton in every house. 

I left Lesneven for Landerneau by the courier in the 
afternoon about one o'clock, intending to stop at the 
latter place for the night, if it looked attractive. The 
vehicle in which I was driving was an open one, and 
we had not proceeded very far when the air became 
cold and chilly, the atmosphere threatening, and the 
sky portentous and overcast ; the half- suppressed mut- 
tering as of distant thunder was audible from time to 
time, whilst towards two o'clock a strange and unusual 
darkness had pervaded everything around. I had for- 
gotten at the moment that it was the day of the eclipse. 
A tremendous shower of hail and rain now broke upon 
the boding silence, and the coarse though ample cover- 
ing which the courier had lent me was quite insufficient 
to exclude the wet. 

It was just beginning to clear up when we entered 
Landerneau, but, probably on account of the dismal 
appearance which everything consequently presented, 



Approach to Brest. 



227 



the outskirts of the town did not seem to promise much. 
Two diligences, which were to start for Brest in an 
hour's time, were standing near the house at which the 
courier stopped, though, before securing a seat in one of 
these, I took a stroll through the principal streets, to 
ascertain if there might not, after all, perhaps be some- 
thing of interest to induce a stranger to remain. The 
town, which contains from six to seven thousand in- 
habitants, is certainly rather prettily situated on the 
banks of the river Elorn, and is said still to possess a 
few notable old houses, though a great many have been 
taken down ; perhaps, however, anxiety to get on to 
Brest may have made me insensible to its attractions, 
and I was therefore content with but a hasty glance. 
On the Quay there are two or three considerable hotels, 
and one cannot help wondering how in such a small 
place they contrive to exist. 

There is an unusually steep hill to climb on leaving 
Landerneau ; and this surmounted, there is nothing 
particularly noticeable between that place and Brest. 
About half-past six the diligence was rattling through 
a broad suburban road, and the stream of people on 
either side of it, together with a glimpse of the sea in 
front, announced that we were near our journey's end. 
Soon coming to a gateway, at which a sentinel stood 
guard, we passed over a drawbridge which spanned 
the moat encircling the chain of impregnable fortifica- 
tion which defends the town. The view, looking down 
the somewhat narrow street as we came under the 
ramparts through the entrance portal, was, as a first 
glimpse, rather characteristic and striking ; but it was 
raining hard, and the chief care of the passengers on 
alighting was to get under shelter as soon as possible. 
In his search after a convenient resting-place a stranger 



228 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



has not the slightest difficulty. The Hotel des Voy- 
ageurs proved a very comfortable house. 

The following morning was again unpropitious ; 
nevertheless everything around was in striking con- 
trast to the dulness and monotony of all the other 
places which had hitherto been passed, and one seemed, 
indeed, to be in Brittany no more. Brest is undeniably 
a very joyous and lively town, full of soldiers and 
sailors, who walk about at their ease and pleasure, and 
smoke Government tobacco at sevenpence-halfpenny a 
pound. The streets are, generally speaking, straight 
and regular, and laid out at right angles to one another ; 
the shops are handsome, and there are one or two very 
good squares. There are, likewise, several first-rate 
cafes, which are quite Parisian in their fitting up and 
comfort. Whilst seated in these at your ease, and read- 
ing the newspapers of an evening, you may hear the 
patrol scouring the streets, and be serenaded by the 
music of their fifes and drums. At that extremity of 
the town which overlooks the roadstead there is a mag- 
nificent public walk, called the Cours d'Ajot, planted 
with tall and stately trees, and here, every other even- 
ing during the summer, the townspeople come in 
crowds, but more especially soldiers and sailors, to be 
enlivened by the martial strains of one of the military 
or naval bands. On alternate evenings they play upon 
the Champ de Bataille, which is a spacious square in 
the centre of the town. The former., however, is by far 
the more agreeable, on account of the pleasantness of 
the promenade and the splendid view of the roadstead 
which it commands. 

This sheet of water, upon which you look down from 
the lofty ramparts, and in which are generally lying at 
anchor a number of large ships of war, is more like an 



Castle of Brest. 



229 



extensive inland sea than the ocean itself, for the outlet, 
being narrow, is here invisible, and you are greeted by 
land on every side. In front of you, but at a distance 
of several miles, is the peninsula of Orozon, in which 
you may perceive rise out the bold and frowning coasts 
of Lanveoc and the lofty promontory of Roscanvel. 
North-west as you stand, if you closely watch the course 
of the water by the motion of some distant sail, you 
will discover that the roadstead there contracts into 
a narrow channel, and this continuing till it reaches 
Landerneau, is known by the poetic appellation of the 
Elorn. 

South-west also, as it flows apace, it gradually grows 
less and less, till at length, almost further than the eye 
can reach, stand out the richly- wooded shores of Lan- 
devennec and Le Faou. To your right, again, you may 
observe a lighthouse, and then, beyond that, the coast 
winds onward until it reaches dreary Cape St. Matthew, 
one of the most westerly points of France. All these 
places I subsequently either visited or passed, and the 
landscape is one which I was never tired of gazing at ; 
for in truth, whether in rain or sunshine, it is of a 
nature to be ever pleasing to the eye. 

One of the principal objects of interest in Brest is 
the ancient castle, built on a steep and lofty rock which 
commands the entrance of the port. Situated as it is 
on a commanding height, overlooking the broad ex- 
panse of what is almost an inland sea, the entrance to 
which, scarcely a mile across, is so well protected by 
the batteries on either shore ; its strength again on the 
inland side so prodigiously increased by all the tact and 
skill which the science of modern strategy affords, to 
the eye even of a civilian this cannot but appear 
amongst the most impregnable of fortresses to a foreign 



230 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

foe. It would be tedious to describe the sieges sustained 
by this famous stronghold in the ancient Breton times ; 
sufficient to say that its importance as a fortress was 
well understood in those troublous periods of war and 
commotion by the currency of the existing proverb, 
" Qu'il n'est pas Due de Bretagne qui n'est Sire de 
Brest." 

The presence of a couple of ships of war in the road- 
stead is sufficient to give the town an animated air. 
The crowd of soldiers and sailors who incessantly 
thronged the streets for the first few days I was in it 
was striking in its novelty ; but when, after my return 
from a short excursion, on the departure of two of the 
largest vessels, the difference in the life and animation 
of the place was at once perceptible, my landlady, 
with a shrug of the shoulders and a deep-drawn sigh, 
made a feeling lamentation that it was exceeding triste. 

On the other side of the creek or river which runs 
up through Brest is an extensive suburb, called La 
Recouvrance, which derives its name from a chapel 
erected in 1346, by Duke John IV., in honour of the 
Virgin, and in which it was customary to place the 
votive offerings made by sailors for the safe return and 
recovery of their ships. That ancient building, how- 
ever, was pulled down in the present century, and a 
veritable barn was erected in its stead. Brest, indeed, 
is not a town which would delight the antiquarian; 
and though an agreeable and lively place, it contains 
few structures of interest or merit. 

A description of the dockyard would not be appro- 
priate to the pages of this book. I may mention, 
however, an anecdote in connection with a barge I was 
there shown in a boat-house, which had been placed at 
the service of the Grand Duke Constantine when he 



The Seaman' ' s Hymn. 23 1 



came to Brest. I was told that the prince had made 
no use of it, but was very sulky, and had responded to 
courtesy with apparent coldness. It is always safest to 
make ample allowance for popular report, but it shows 
at any rate the idea which is entertained of the Breton 
character, when it was imagined by many that the 
disinclination of the Grand Duke to appear in public 
arose from a certain apprehension that his life might 
be exposed to danger from the fury of the peasant 
portion of the population, who would have been 
vehemently aroused at his presence, on their remem- 
brance of relatives and friends who had perished in the 
Crimean war. 



THE SEAMAN'S HYMN. 



God's name be praised ! our danger o'er, 
We heed not now the tempest's din, 

Or tremble at its awful roar, 
This wish'd-for haven safe within. 

The ocean's wrath to temper, Whose, 

And wind's unseemly mirth to rein ; 
We cannot, mighty Lord, but choose 
Be awed within Thy wide domain. 

When yield their wills to Thy command, 
As thoughts of fear to words of joy, 

We own our times are in that Hand 
Which us can keep, or e'en destroy. 



232 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



Oh, ne'er the goal that we may miss, 
If life beyond such stormy seas, 

Leads to a harbour safe as this, 
And homes secure and sweet as these. 

How rocks and shoals unknown to sight, 
By daily risk forewarned, are near, 

'Tis well to set the compass right, 
That in the hayen safe we steer. 



CHAPTER XVI. 




Excursion to Le Conquet. — The Werewolf. — Cape St. Matthew. — The 
Lighthouse. — Kuins of the Monastery. — Eeturn to Brest- 
Modern Miracles. — Legend of St. Anne. 

NE of the many agreeable excursions which 
can be made from Brest is to the village of Le 
Conquet, between which place and Cape St. 
Matthew there is a bold and rocky coast. I went by 
the mail-cart, which left punctually at four o'clock in 
the morning, the only drawback to the enjoyment 
arising from the consciousness that the courier started 
again at ten on his return, so that the time would be 
extremely limited, unless Le Conquet were to be made 
a resting-place for the night. It was not yet daylight 
when my landlord called me ; and as I came up to the 
gateway at the entrance of the town to meet the vehicle, 
the grey dawn of morning revealed the few early 
stragglers who were wandering through the street, 
though the never-failing sentinel was still shivering 
at his post. 

The distance to Le Conquet by the route we came is 
at least twenty miles, for the courier had to make a 
considerable circuit in order to drop a letter-bag at St. 
Renan, a little town which was just awaking from its 
slumbers, and had one quaint old house in its secluded 
square. Insignificant, however, as the place is at 
present, it had its own importance when its now giant 



234 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



neighbour was in a state of infancy, for it was long the 
seat of royal justice till transferred to Brest in 1681. 

The driver of the mail-cart was a somewhat intelli- 
gent man. " Les gens par ici," said he, " sont tres 
devots ; but there was a period when they were far 
more wild and ignorant than they are now. At one 
time the priests, in order to terrify them into goodness, 
had recourse to the expedient of an artful stratagem, 
which was known by the appellation of le loap-garou. 
They used to pay a fellow to go about the country at 
night enveloped in an ox-hide, with the horns standing 
up at the top of his head, and the people, believing it to 
be an apparition of the evil spirit, were scared by 
fright. I once knew a man even in Brest, in the 
suburb of Le Recouvrance, who had undertaken to per- 
sonify le loap-garou. It had come to the knowledge, 
however, of a party of sailors, that at a certain hour 
of the night the apparition would be seen; but the 
men were not in the most favourable state to be intimi- 
dated by apparitions (having, doubtless, for the occasion 
placed themselves beyond the reach of fear), for they 
were drunk. Accordingly, at the approach of the 
period indicated, they lay in wait for the expected 
visitor, two at each extremity of the street, and directly 
the spirit hove in sight, the sailors fell upon it, and 
gave it a good sound thrashing before it had time to 
make off." 

The name of this once-dreaded apparition is derived 
from bley-garv, or bley-garo, which, in the dialect of 
Morbihan, signifies a fierce and cruel wolf. A similar 
belief existed among the Scythians, from whom sprang 
the Celts. Herodotus says that the people of that 
country changed themselves into wolves once a year, 
and again a few days afterwards resumed their natural 



Le Conquet, 235 



form. Virgil, likewise, speaking of Circe's land, says, 
" Hence were plainly heard groans ; bristly boars and 
bears were raging in their stalls, and wolves of gigantic 
form were howling : which monstrous transformations 
that the pious Trojans might not undergo, if borne to 
that port, nor land on those accursed shores, Neptune 
filled their sails with propitious breezes, and carried 
them beyond the boiling shoals." Again, in the eighth 
Eclogue, he says : " These herbs and hurtful plants 
which were culled in Pontus, Moeris himself gave me : 
there they grew plentifully. Through their means I 
have seen Moeris transform himself into a wolf, and 
skulk into the forests, often calling forth spirits from 
the deep graves." 

The vicinity of Le Conquet is somewhat picturesque. 
We reached it as the clock struck seven, so that there 
were just three hours left in which to have breakfast, 
and to visit the lighthouse at St. Matthew's Point. 
The landlady of the inn assured me it was a good 
league to my destination, and that I should have to 
make haste, for the mail-cart was hers, and it always 
started punctually. As a matter of course she recom- 
mended my taking one of her carriages, which, con- 
sidering it would economise time, I decided on doing ; 
but I had not proceeded two hundred yards before I 
discovered to my cost that I was travelling over any- 
thing but a carriage road. The path, in fact, was very 
little more than a slightly-beaten way over stone and 
rock ; and the jolting and bumping of the vehicle were 
decidedly trying. We had traversed about half of this 
villainous route when we came at length to a rocky 
slope of about twenty feet in depth, without any path 
whatever, down which the driver would most probably 1 
have gone with but small hesitation, had I not alighted 



236 The Pardon of Gicingamp. 

out of regard to the safety of life and limb, and told 
him I would accomplish the remainder of the distance 
on foot. 

Beyond the little precipice at which we stopped there 
was no longer even the slightest pretension to a car- 
riage road, but simply a rude and ordinary track for 
a pedestrian, so that eventually I had the privilege of 
paying into the hands of my hostess the sum of three 
francs in consideration of being bumped and jolted, and 
my neck imperilled, in her rickety cabriolet during the 
period of the accomplishment of that purgatorial mile. 

The cliffs along this coast, though not extremely 
lofty, are bold and rugged, and the waves of the bois- 
terous Atlantic, dashing eternally against them, make 
wild, if not harmonious music, the eloquence of which 
is well in keeping with the lonely and savage character 
of the surrounding scene. Only a few hundred feet 
from the edge of that point which is said to be the 
most westerly in France, and almost in Europe, on a 
site as if originally chosen for its lonely and romantic 
nature, stand the beautiful and still imposing ruins of 
the ancient Abbey of St. Matthew. It was founded in 
the beginning of the seventh century by the Breton 
hermit, Tanguy, though the edifice then was far less 
extensive and elegant than its appearance at the pre- 
sent day still leaves it. The pointed architecture of 
the later building, in the aisles and arches which yet 
remain, leads us back to the taste and talent of the 
thirteenth century, at which period the real or sup- 
posed relics of the patron saint were carefully deposited 
within the walls. 

However great may have been the sanctity of the 
inmates of the monastery, it does not appear that they 
were in any way free from the usual molestation of the 



Abbey of St. Matthew. 



237 



turbulence and violence of the middle ages, and the 
building therefore was once strongly fortified, to pre- 
serve it from the sudden attack of the horde of pirates 
who then infested these stormy seas, and who had more 
than once surprised it. If anything more were re- 
quired at the present day to inspire the mind with a 
feeling of enthusiastic wonder, beside the air of wildness 
and loneliness which pervades this spot, and the sight 
of the foaming waves venting their force continually 
against the rocky cliffs, it is surely the sound of the 
wailing wind sweeping mournfully through the aisles 
of the crumbling ruin, and chanting as it were a 
dirge over the memory of the past. 

Hard by, in curious contrast to this relic of the 
middle ages, lifts up its lofty head a modern lighthouse, 
from the summit of which the prospect is sublime. 
The atmosphere was somewhat hazy, but before me, on 
the left, stood out the tortuous and indented coast of 
the peninsula of Crozon, with the bay of Oamaret ; 
whilst projecting far beyond that, had the day been 
clear, a distant glimpse might have been caught of the 
formidable rocks at the Pointe du Paz, and of the Isle 
de Sein, the Sena of Pomponius, behind which lie 
Audierne and its sweeping shore. To the right were 
looming through the haze a cluster of small islands, 
amongst which could imagination only fix its eye upon 
the island of Ouessant, the Uxantes of the Greeks, thus 
shrouded in the mist, whilst a continuation of the 
chain of coast upon which the building stands discovers 
the fortifications in the neighbourhood of Brest. 

To complete the scene, in the wide and illimitable 
range of the ever-restless Atlantic, a noble vessel under 
press of sail was pitching and plunging through the 
crested waves, unmindful of the coming storm. 



238 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



Before the erection of the present building the 
beacon was in a tower of the ancient abbey. Romantic 
as the situation of the ruin is, it is probable that the 
site of the original monastery of the seventh century is 
now in the midst of the ocean, for tradition says that 
at one time the monks were compelled to retreat 
before the encroachment of the advancing waves. It 
is possible, moreover, that the archipelago of adjacent 
islands, including Ouessant, was connected at one 
period with the main-land. Was not even Britain 
itself, now " sundered from the world, " in remoter ages 
an integral part of the European continent, such as is 
Denmark at the present day ? 

Though we had scarcely been at Le Conquet three 
hours and a half, we returned to Brest with the same 
little horse which had brought us hither, and which 
seemed almost insensible to fatigue. The rain came 
down in torrents, and the covering which the tenant 
of the house had lent me becoming speedily saturated, 
proved, not entirely to comfort, to be a stale, ill- 
savoured blanket. A courier's vehicle in Brittany is 
sufficiently agreeable when the weather is fine, for the 
speed is generally very good ; but in this instance the 
effect of a partial shelter, such as it was, was every now 
and then completely neutralised by having to dismount 
and walk up some formidable hill. 

Entering one evening into a cafe at Brest, the land- 
lady, who was much more Breton than French, informed 
me that it was the fete of St. Anne, and as many of 
the inhabitants had flocked to the reiidez-vous at some 
distance from the town where her praise was cele- 
brated, that circumstance might possibly account for 
the scarcity of people in the streets. St. Anne, she 
continued, was a very popular saint, and to sailors was 



Modern Miracles. 



239 



extremely kind ; innumerable were the miracles she 
had worked in their behalf. 

I asked her to tell me what some of them had been. 

" Well, last year, for instance, a man-of-war, when 
entering the port of Brest, was engulfed completely 
in the waves, and just on the point of being swallowed 
up. The men in their despair fell down upon their 
knees, and implored the protection of their patron 
saint. She listened to their prayer. The consequence 
was not a soul was lost. Shortly afterwards the entire 
crew, officers and men alike, made a pilgrimage together 
barefooted to her shrine, to perform the vows which they 
had uttered in their distress." 

" Yes," added the daughter, who was engaged in 
knitting, "the sailors place the highest confidence in 
the merits and intercession of St. Anne." 

Confessing my ignorance of the history of the saint, 
I here begged of my informants some enlightenment on 
the point. 

" St. Anne," said the landlady, " was the wife of a 
mariner, who perished eventually at sea by shipwreck. 
She, after his death, took up her abode on the lonely 
shore, with no other than her faithful dog for a com- 
panion, subsisting upon seaweed, and whatever she 
could obtain by the labour of her hands. She begged 
that when she died she might be buried on the shore, 
together with her constant friend, and that a chapel 
might be erected on the loftiest point of the coast above 
them, where, overlooking the ocean, she would be 
enabled unceasingly to keep her watch. At length 
she died, and men complied with her request. Two 
centuries had passed from the time of her decease, 
when, the bodies of herself and her dog being disin- 
terred — most wonderful to relate — they both were 



240 The Pardon of Giiingamp. 

found to be in as good preservation as on the day when 
they first were committed to their rest." 

Great as was in life her devotion to mariners, it is 
thus she continues to protect them still. 

" Yes," said the daughter, " St. Anne works many 
miracles in behalf of seafaring men." 



THE LEGEND OF ST. ANNE. 



Fob grief though hold its sceptre fell, 

This coast so rugged of ill renown, 
Yet oft of old they love to tell, 

In gloom and terror when night came down ; 
When lightnings gleamed and thunders rolled, 

And waves in fury lashed the shore, 
Unnerved the timid and awed the bold, 

And spake with power unknown before ; 
When the pitiless driving storm began, 
A friend to the seaman was good St. Anne. 

Yes, oft that fierce Atlantic gale, 

On wanton ruin and mischief bent, 
Eound many a fated bark and frail, 

The weary night its fury spent ; 
Nor vanquished yet when morning woke, 

And brave ones struck their briny bed, 
When the widow bereft to her orphan spoke, 

And strove to follow to death the dead ; 
'Twas then, 'twas then for the drowning man 
Up rose the prayers of good St. Anne. 

But say, what cunning hand's restraint 
Ever the tyrant rein'd ? His call 

Comes to the sinner and comes to the saint, 
Cometh alike in his time to all ; 



The Legend of St. Anne. 



Gloating saps the wills which try- 
Sway o'er other (his right) to hold ; 

Ne'er, if baffled, we marvel why, 
Why this lore unwont be told, 

" Earth to earth" were an empty ban 

Over the body of good St. Anne. 

Yet (this mortal life-like, whole) 

From its gross encumbrance freed, 
Think' st thou not the deathless soul 

Soaring loveth each scene indeed, 
Once to which its earthly love 

Scarce or change or bound might know ? 
Yes, the heart which glows above, 

Lighted oft its fires below — 
Time nor seeming farness can 
Dim thy vigilance, good St. Anne. 

So the seaman's feeble skiff 

Still to shield from adverse arm, 
On the pinnacled beaten cliff, 

Now she watches in storm and calm. 
Deems him never that heart alone 

(Wars may frantic break the skies, 
And the fickle wind's boding moan 

Over his de profiindis rise) 
So but faith his angel scan, 
O'er him, watching him, good St, Anne. 



CHAPTER XVII. 



Excursion to Crozon. — Landing at Quelern. — Walk to Camaret. — 
Drive to Crozon. — A Eetired CMteau. — Landaoudec. — Bay of 
Morgatte. — Barbarity of Natives. — Trou du Diable. — Caves. — 
Revolutionary Incident. — Our Lady of Port Salut. — Return to 
Quelern. — Across to Brest. 

NOTHER excursion which can be made from 
Brest is to the peninsula of Crozon, a tract of 
territory which is remarkable for the frequency 
of its Druidical remains. My intention originally was 
to have crossed the Roads in a sailing vessel to Lanveoc, 
a village about nine miles distant on the opposite shore, 
and which the people here call Lanveau ; but having 
heard that one of the passage-boats had been lost in 
the Channel not long before, and every one on board 
drowned, from the cause by which not a few of the 
accidents of this description happen, viz., the drunken- 
ness of the sailors, and, in this case, of the captain, I 
determined to make sure of my opportunity before I 
went. 

The wind on the following morning was blowing 
very hard, and I was standing in the shop of my land- 
lady, Madame V , asking her which of the boats 

was considered best, when just then a sailor came in to 
buy a stock of bread, and she immediately said to me, 
" There, there's just the man who would take you ; he 
goes over to Quelern to transport the soldiers ; his is a 
vessel which is employed by the Government, and it's 




Excursion to Crozon. 



243 



quite safe." I therefore made inquiries of the sailor, 
and decided on going that afternoon. 

The small quantity of luggage I required was soon 
made up, and at the hour indicated I was down at the 
wharf. The boat was of about twelve tons, partly open, 
and with a deck which covered perhaps a quarter of its 
length. Beneath this place of shelter one might have 
managed easily to creep in case of emergency for pro- 
tection from the rain, except that the bottom of the 
craft was really too dirty to attempt anything of the 
sort. After waiting about five or ten minutes, a 
number of passengers began to arrive ; they consisted 
of four or five women, most of whom were assiduously 
employed in economising their time by knitting, and 
about the same number of soldiers, bound for Quelern, 
where there is a barrack, and who brought on board a 
large quantity of bread, which they put down — regard- 
less of the accumulation of dirt — into the hold of the 
boat. The view from the roadstead of the surrounding 
coast, extensive as it is, is extremely interesting. "We 
had a fine wind, which carried us quickly along through 
the open Channel past the Pointe des Espagnols, a place 
which derives its name from the fortress erected and 
held by the Spaniards ; after which we kept near the 
shore till we arrived at Quelern, about an hour after 
leaving Brest. 

On landing I was confronted by a custom-house 
officer, but as I had very little to show him he did not 
detain me long. As there is nothing whatever to be 
seen at Quelern, I set off at once on foot for the village 
of Camaret, a distance of four miles. A chain of forti- 
fications, with ramparts, moats, and drawbridges, here 
extends for a considerable way along the road; and 
their importance is at once apparent, since the bay of 



244 The Pa / > r do7i of Guingamp. 



Camaret on the sea side of the peninsula is without 
the Groulet, or narrow throat which leads into the har- 
bour of Brest. The coast is here for the most part 
rocky, though in some places the sea is rapidly en- 
croaching upon and undermining the softer cliffs. 
There was no regular high-road to the point of my 
destination, but I had chiefly to skirt the shore over a 
beaten track which in some places was scarcely even 
visible. The contrast between this region and that in 
the neighbourhood of Brest was quite remarkable, for 
it was wild and savage, and almost entirely deserted, 
with scarcely a single miserable cottage to be seen. 

The village of Camaret, whatever it may promise in 
the distance, is an insignificant place. On reaching it 
I scoured its wretched streets in search of some house 
of accommodation, and after a little hesitation put down 
my fishing-basket in what — though it bore the name — 
had not much the appearance of an hotel. 

I then walked on without loss of time to Toulinguet, 
a distance of about half a mile, to see what remained of 
a Druidical monument ; and from thence to a light- 
house on another small peninsula, over a desolate and 
sandy waste, on which was neither tree, nor shrub, nor 
house, for a distance of about a mile and a half. This 
savage and deserted promontory is girt by bold and 
lofty cliffs, and seems to be at the very extremity of 
the world. 

The noble rocks which edge the shore for many a 
mile round have here and there, during the course of 
ages, been gradually undermined by the action of the 
waves. Just beneath are some curious caverns, which 
are worth inspecting. I entered the lighthouse, which 
is a low, plain building, with nothing of interest except 
its romantic situation, and made inquiries of the keeper. 



Village of Camaret. 



245 



He told me I had arrived at an unfortunate moment 
to examine the caves, because they were always under 
water at the spring tides. Even at neap tides they 
cannot be reached except by water; and moreover, 
with the violent swell which is always in motion around 
these lofty rocks, it requires a calm and cloudless day, 
for as there is no possibility of keeping a boat at the 
spot, you must come all the way round from Camaret, a 
distance of several miles. I would fain have remained 
an hour gazing on the bold, fantastic ridges which here 
stretch out so romantically into the sea, but that the 
sinking sun reminded me it was time to return to my 
destination for the night. 

Although Camaret is quite innocent of shops and 
good hotels, it boasts of a little harbour, in which were 
lying at anchor a steamer and two or three other smaller 
vessels. The entrance to the inlet, though wide, is at 
this place invisible, and the roadstead has here likewise 
the appearance of a lake. Just opposite the village 
juts out a narrow neck of land, on which are an un- 
sightly-looking fortification and a church. Experience 
lias taught the French Government that fortifications 
in this neighbourhood are absolutely necessary, and the 
Bay of Death commemorates the circumstance of a 
slaughter of the English and Dutch allies, who, towards 
the end of the seventeenth century, had attempted an 
ineffectual landing and attack on Brest. It is on this 
account, probably, that the inhabitants of Camaret 
think themselves justified in reminding us that they 
are a valiant people, for a promenade, planted with 
about a hundred trees on a dusty bit of ground at the 
entrance of the village, is denominated the Champ de 
Bataille, as in many other equally warlike towns. 

In such a remote place as this I thought it just 



246 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



possible that some of the ancient superstitions of the 
country might yet survive ; but the landlord of the inn, 
who called himself a scrivener, and was an intelligent 
man, informed me that there were none. The people 
here speak French and Breton, and the former seems 
to be the dominant tongue. 

On the following morning I hired a conveyance, and 
set out after breakfast for the village of Crozon. The 
vehicle turned out to be a heavy, rattling van with four 
wheels, and the pace at which we went was anything 
but satisfactory. Our course lay over a wild, bleak, 
open, and uncultivated country, with the inhabitants 
few and far between. My driver, who was a brother- 
in-law of the scrivener, had two large and very power- 
ful dogs with him, which he said he invariably took for 
protection. Though the roads are now safe, he told me 
it was at one time dangerous to travel in these parts. 
His father had once, many years ago, been attacked by 
robbers, but as he fortunately had a pistol with him, he 
drove his assailants off. The woods, a few miles fur- 
ther on, abound with wolves, and he had not long since 
carried one dead into Camaret, where he sold the skin 
for five francs. 

The coast all along this neighbourhood is particularly 
romantic, winding on fantastically with its abrupt and 
lofty cliffs for miles together, and then expanding every 
here and there into a low, sandy bay. 

Passing through the village of Crozon, and having 
followed the course of the telegraphic wires all the way 
from Camaret, we drove on through a by-road, to visit 
a large Druidical remain which is said to be one of the 
best preserved of the kind in Brittany. The scrivener 
had in the morning, before I set out, recommended me 
to call at the house of a Monsieur de Mesmeur, not far 



Druidical Remains. 



247 



from the locality where it is to be found ; for lie said 
this gentleman was always very courteous, and willing 
to accompany strangers to the spot. His little chateau 
appeared quite an oasis in the midst of these savage 
parts. The house, though small, stands in the centre of 
some delightful grounds, the luxuriant foliage of vines 
and lime trees peeping over the grey old garden walls. 
Its owner, though poor, belongs to a family of the 
decayed nobility. He unfortunately was out, but his 
mother, who received me, sent one of her servants to 
put me into the right track. The latter, after accom- 
panying me a short distance, directed me to the wind- 
mill of Landaoudec at the top of a hill, where she told 
me I should find her brother, who could speak a little 
French. 

I met him as I approached, coming out of his mill, 
and leading a sheep by a string. He was only just 
able to understand what I wanted, and though he was 
coming in the same direction, he did not offer to assist 
me. I was therefore obliged to go into one or two 
cottages to make inquiry, and as the people appeared 
to speak nothing but Breton, I should have been hope- 
lessly put out, had not one little girl at last, who had a 
smattering of the other language, consented to accom- 
pany me to the spot. I should never have been able 
otherwise to discover it. 

The assemblage of stones, which were lying in a 
field overrun with furze, were rather vague in their 
united shape, as many of them had been removed ; 
still it was perfectly plain what they meant, for there 
was still left one long, entire, straight line to indicate 
the nature of the remains. So insignificant, however, 
now was the condition of the monument that it scarcely 
repaid the trouble of a visit, and report had somewhat 



248 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



exaggerated its present state. The whole of the penin- 
sula, however, teems with menhirs and dolmens, more 
or less perfect, besides other Druidical remains. 

Regaining the village of Orozon, I next proceeded 
on foot to the bay of Morgatte, to see the caves or 
grottoes, which are considered the curiosity of the 
place. The expanse of sand which I traversed in order 
to procure a boat, and over which from a neighbouring 
field came the sound of the Celtic bagpipes, is merely a 
smaller contained within a larger bay, that of Douarne- 
nez, which is almost twenty miles across. On arriving 
at the foot of a cliff, on which were being erected some 
Government fortifications, I fell in with the engineer of 
the works, who obligingly offered to show me a natural 
curiosity, called the " Trou du Diable," and who gave 
me some interesting anecdotes relative to the history of 
the place. 

In 1810, he said, the English fleet lay at anchor in 
the bay of Douarnenez. The admiral's son being sent 
on shore to fill some casks with water, as he approached 
the base of the promontory, a number of coast-guards- 
men, strongly armed, were observed to be stationed 
on the cliffs above. Not expecting any hostile demon- 
stration at such a moment, the party effected their quiet 
landing, but had no sooner done so than they were im- 
mediately attacked and massacred by these savage men. 
My informant justly stigmatised the act, under the cir- 
cumstances mentioned, as a brutal and unjustifiable 
murder. He likewise incidentally spoke about the 
English consul at Brest ; upon which I mentioned how, 
though he had done his best to procure me admission 
into the dockyard, the authorities had put off his appli- 
cation in no very straightforward way ; and I had only 
been able at last to inspect it through other interest. 



Caves of Morgatte. 249 



" Why, you see," said he, " the English consul, 
somehow or other, manages to be made acquainted 
with everything as soon as it takes place. Some little 
time since, for instance, a French yessel of war got 
stranded at no great distance from this very bay. That 
gentleman soon afterwards, when in conversation with 
the prefet maritime, remarked, i So I hear there's a 
ship in distress upon the rocks ? ' The prefet, how- 
ever, had not yet received the information, and it 
seems that the consul was the first person who had 
heard anything whatever on the subject." 

The " Trou du DiabJe," which we had come up to 
see, is one of those natural curiosities peculiar to such 
iron-bound coasts. It is a deep hole, penetrating the 
entire depth of the hill (a formidable height just at 
that spot, though not quite at the summit), into which 
the sea enters by a mouth at the base of the cliff. I 
was approaching the edge of the cavern to catch a 
glimpse of the water which was murmuring faintly 
with the entering of the tide, when the superintendent 
with an exclamation called upon me to draw back. I 
therefore lay down flat upon my chest, and crept 
forward gradually to gaze into the mysteries of the 
abyss. 

My curiosity being satisfied, we returned to the 
sands ; and taking leave of my guide with thanks, I 
went across the bay in a small boat to see the caves. 
The entrance to the largest of them, it seems, is always 
guarded by the tide, and it requires some caution to 
approach it on account of the swell which is continually 
playing about the rocks. The fact of the mouth of the 
cavern being guarded by the water gives, perhaps, the 
chief part of the interest to the sight ; and the excite- 
ment of having to reach it in a boat adds zest to an 



250 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



exploration which might otherwise be comparatively 
tame. The chamber, however, which is thus excavated 
by the restlessness of the tide at the base of the cliff is 
of sufficient dimensions to be imposing, being, perhaps, 
about fifteen feet in height, and it runs up into the 
rock to a length of some sixty feet. 

During the Revolution of '93, when the rites of 
religion had been officially suppressed, the churches 
desecrated or razed to the ground, and the priests 
hunted down by soldiers who swarmed over the country, 
it was this locality which, amongst others, was so pre- 
eminently consecrated by the simple piety of the Breton 
peasant, of whose unquenchable faith a touching record 
so eloquently speaks. 

At stated periods in the dead of night, when all the 
inhabitants were apparently buried in profound repose, 
a crowd of boats from every quarter of the bay were 
wont to put off simultaneously from the shore, freighted 
with hundreds, if not thousands, of beings, whose eyes 
were anxiously directed to a glimmering distant light 
upon the sea. As they gradually approached this 
light, towards which every one was steering, the yet 
faint tolling of a bell on board one stationary boat was 
preparing their minds for a great solemnity ; for soon, 
clustering round it as a centre, the well-known voice of 
some still faithful priest, whose devoted energies the 
hottest persecution was powerless to subdue, might 
have been heard as in the peaceful times of old, in 
presence of the spell-bound multitude, performing the 
consolatory office of a midnight mass. In this grand 
yet simple manner, with the star-studded sky for the 
vault of their temple, were all other rites of the Church 
clandestinely performed. 

Not far from Orozon is the Chapel of Notre Dame 



Our Lady of Port Salut. 251 



de Port Salut, of which the following legend is still 
preserved. Though told in a shorter manner in prose, 
I here render it in verse : — 



THE LEGEND OE OUB LADY OF POET SALUT. 

In a cabin dwells, on a bleak hill side, 

A poor and a lonely man — 
So poor, for his own scant wants provide 

He knows that he barely can. 
So lonely, where shall he look or go 
For seed his little field to sow ? 
Ah, hapless, where ? A thought divine ! 
The pilgrim seeks a sainted shrine, 
And a vow he vow'd as he wept and pray'd, 
And sought our gracious Lady's aid. 

Said the aged man, " Though poor, 
I'll wait in faith ; in a little while, 
Maybe, shall a golden harvest smile 

On this now all naked moor. 
What loan she lends, that harvest done, 
In full o'erflowing kind, for one 

Twofold I'll joyful bear." 
Yes, scarce the tale of woe is told, 
Than, miracle of love ! behold, 

What glorious gift is here ? 
The night of weeping past, now lie 
Bright rainbow arches o'er the sky ; 
'Tis his, the thankful pillow press'd, 
To rise betimes, and late take rest ; 
With watchful care to plant and plough ; 
The good seed grows, he knows not how ; 
Nor falls on thirsty earth in vain 
The earlier or the later rain. 
So till soft spring's returning days 
He patient waits who hopes and prays, 

And vows to yield his prime ; 
Long months of fitful change are past, 
But genial hours come round at last, 

And now 'tis harvest time. 
The meads in bright attire conceal'd, 
High promise flits athwart the field ; 



252 The Pardon of Giiingamp. 

Eieh noontide suns the acres stain, 
And seas of gold roll o'er the plain : 
Soon bearded corn-stalks, stout and tall, 
Swift to the sharpen' d sickle fall; 
Long labour done, his sheaves beside, 
Eise up sweet hymns at eventide ; 
And hope fulfill'd such vigour lends, 
Quick the well-handled flail descends, 

Nor scarce awakes the morn, 
Than to quick song the well-told grain 
Beside the hallow'd shrine, in twain, 
• By thankful hands is borne. 
The portal opes, with fervour staid, 
He kneels, the sign of faith is made. 
Then one by one his bursting sheaves, 
In the dim aisle, fair heap, he leaves ; 

Till of his long- vow' d score 
The half before the altar lies, 
When, lo, to piety's surprise, 

Swings back the ponderous door. 
No subtle art, no force of arm, 
Applied, dissolves the mystic charm : 
Our Lady of compassion wills, 
The good intent the vow fulfils ; 
So the lone toiler turns to-day 
Eejoicing in his homeward way. 
The tale they tell : who runs may read, 
Nor doth deep lore or learning need 

This moral meet to gain, 
She who ne'er loath, to loyal friends, 
When sore distress'd and straiten'd, lends, 

Doth usury disdain. 

I returned to Camaret in the clumsy, four- wheeled, 
open van, and then set out immediately for Quelern, 
in the same manner as I had come the previous day. I 
reached my destination towards nightfall, just in time 
to catch a glimpse from the heights overlooking the 
roadstead of the departing passage-boat, with its sails 
unfurled, making the most of the fresh evening breeze, 
about a hundred yards off the shore. Not having 



From Quelern to Brest. 253 



expected a departure that night, it could scarcely be 
called a disappointment, though, indeed, having seen 
it, it was somewhat tantalising ; so there was nothing 
to do but to put up at one of the bare, uncomfortable 
inns for the night. The handful of soldiers, who, with 
their commanding officer, here undergo by turns their 
temporary banishment from Brest, take what pastime 
their very scanty means will afford them at these two 
rival inns ; and certainly it is no other than an exile 
to men who have no resources, and who have but 
recently been immersed in the varied and gratuitous 
excitements of that lively town. 

The Government boat was to start from Quelern at 
eight o'clock the following morning, but about half- 
past seven the owner of the house came up to tell me 
that another boat, which was lighter and a swifter 
sailer, would be pushing off immediately. Hoping, if 
possible, to be able to leave Brest for Chateaulin at one 
in the afternoon, I hastened to take advantage of it. 
It was five minutes to eight, however, before it started. 
The morning was extremely hot, and there was scarcely 
a breath of air, so that the sail was useless, and the 
men were obliged to propel the boat with a couple of 
gigantic oars, two pairs of hands at each. The Govern- 
ment vessel left about ten minutes afterwards, and it 
was, therefore, for some time a race between us, but 
ours being the lighter craft, the advantage was on our 
side, and we soon left it far behind. Still, though a 
smaller boat, it was by no means an outrigger, and it 
was anything but playwork to coax her along. Once 
or twice, in order to ease the men who were pulling, I 
took my turn for a few minutes at the oar, an exercise 
by which I was tolerably well enabled to guess what 
the life of a galley-slave must be. We were three 



254 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



hours thus creeping across — a provoking time, as it was 
now too late to start for Chateaulin. It was some con- 
solation, however, to be able once more to hear the 
military band on the agreeable Cours d'Ajot, though, 
as two of the ships of war had just left for Naples, the 
town was now comparatively dull. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 




Start for Chateaulin. — Roadstead of Brest. — An old Acquaintance.— 
The Priest.— Our Conversation. — Something New.— The Olive 
Branch of Peace. — A Tete-a-tete. — Invitation to Langollen.— • 
Portlaunay. — La Lecon des Enfants. 

| HE river steamboat starting for Chateaulin 
on the following afternoon created almost as 
much sensation as if she had been a man-of- 
war. I certainly went on board without expecting to 
meet any acquaintances, but lo ! whilst yet the noisy 
little vessel was growling and hissing, and sending 
down showers of spray upon the assembled multitude, 
and ere yet the last shout of " Who's for shore P" had 
been duly made and echoed in the vernacular, my eye 
had lighted on a well-remembered form — a peasant 
in a coarse blue jacket and trousers, with a broad- 
brimmed hat, and a countenance in which heaviness 
and the most unyielding obstinacy were the leading 
characteristics, and which would have served a painter 
well in his attempt to depict the peculiar cast and 
expression of a fierce Inquisitor in the history of 
mediaeval Spain. It was, in short, none other than 
my recently-acquired friend the right worshipful the 
mayor of Pengol. The coincidence was somewhat 
strange, and I no sooner caught sight of him than I 
determined I would have a little amicable conversation 
with him before I left the boat. 

The course we took presented an almost uninter- 



256 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

rupted display of pretty scenery, as we kept sufficiently 
close to one of the shores of the roadstead to observe 
its banks. Probably, however, beyond the immediate 
vicinity of the water the interest of the landscape 
ceases ; but as the business of the traveller is not now 
to penetrate this secret, he has nothing clearly to do 
but to extract enjoyment out of what he sees. We 
steamed, perhaps, somewhere about twenty miles before 
we arrived at the entrance of the river Aulne, where 
the way becomes comparatively narrow, but the view 
on either side interesting. On a little promontory at 
the mouth of the stream, before which we stopped for a 
few minutes to take up passengers, stand the ruins of 
the Abbey of Landevennec — a name, by the way, which 
occurs in Cornwall. The country in the district we 
have just entered is hilly, and in some parts the rocky 
elevations, running up to a height of perhaps three 
hundred feet, were clothed in the beautiful bloom of 
purple heath. 

About half an hour before reaching Chateaulin, the 
right worshipful the chief magistrate of Pengol was 
standing close beside me in conversation with a priest. 
I had been waiting for some suitable occasion to claim 
his acquaintance, and presently the opportunity arrived. 
The conversation, it was easy to perceive, was about a 
certain personage not far off, for it was evident that 
the mayor had long since recognised me, and I caught 
a few stray words on the subject of "les Anglais" 
now dropping from the lips of the priest. The next 
moment I had the gratification of ascertaining that 
"there are some of those English who require to be 
humbled. You certainly did quite right." As a loyal 
British subject, therefore, I rose up from my seat, and 
addressing myself to his worship, remarked, " I think 



An Old Acquaintance* 257 



I've seen you before — at Pengol, if I mistake not. 
Are you not the mayor ?" 

The mayor acknowledging his identity, was at a loss 
about my own, though, after a becoming hesitation, he 
again turned suddenly to the priest, and said, as if 
some new idea had flashed upon him, " Ah, c'est lui ! " 

" Do you wish to see my passport ?" I inquired, 
laughingly. 

" Oh no, not now ! I haven't the power," replied the 
mayor with the greatest gravity, as though he thought 
I was under the impression of his ubiquitous authority. 

"Neither, I understand, had you any the other 
night," said I, " without your girdle of office about 
your waist." 

" Yes ; but I offered to send for it if you doubted 
my word." 

The priest, now addressing me, remarked, " You're 
an Englishman, are you? He's been telling me all 
about it. He was only doing his duty, you know, in 
acting as he did, and inquiring for your passport ; it's 
the rule of the country so to do." 

" I don't reflect for one moment on his doing his 
duty," I answered ; " I complain of the unaccountable 
behaviour of the people of the auberge. The reason 
to which I attribute it is the fact of their having been 
somewhat excited at the time." 

Mayor. "Ah, you say I was excited! I deny it 
entirely. I had only taken three glasses of wine." 

Stranger. " I shall not, then, positively affirm it as a 
fact, but I'll certainly declare you gave me that im- 
pression. Didn't you tell me the following morning 
that you were then more tipsy than the night before ?" 

Mayor. " No, not at all. I wasn't a whit the more 
so than I am now." 

s 



258 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



Priest. " Ah, he told me that you said he had been 
drinking ! And what annoyed him so much was your 
saying that you would write to your Government on 
the subject/' 

Stranger. " I said I would do so if I were illegally 
molested. This was entirely for my own protection. I 
was in a strange place, where the people were violent, 
and where two of them, as I believed, were unable to 
act with common sense. They suspected me. Why 
shouldn't I suspect them ? The other man, who was 
a lodger, was nourishing his knife, and declaiming in 
the most outrageous manner, seeking only an oppor- 
tunity for a brawl. There was no doubt whatever 
about the fellow being drunk." 

Mayor. " No, he was not. He may indeed, perhaps, 
have been indulging in a glass or two, but he wasn't 
in the condition you affirm." 

Stranger. " Excuse me, but he was ; the schoolmaster 
himself was under the same impression. Both you 
and he behaved in the rudest manner possible." 

Mayor. " I was not rude in any way. I told you you 
might be the first person in the land, for aught I knew ; 
but until I had seen your passport I must retain my 
suspicions on the point." 

Stranger. " You declared I was not an honest person 
for travelling without it, and that I could not be an 
Englishman, as I represented myself to be." 

Mayor. " I never said any such thing ; I told you to 
reassure yourself, and wait till the following morning. 
Under similar circumstances I should have done the 
same to any one. Had not the schoolmaster declared 
to me he thought you were honest, I would have had 
you locked up in the tower of the church." 

Stranger. " And do you knov what I for my part 



Feeling towards Englishmen. 259 

would have done had you ordered me to the tower, or 
if I had been molested in any way at the inn ? I would 
have done my best to arrest you on a charge — you 
remember the ' Arret contre l'ivrognerie ? 9 99 

The priest, to my surprise, here dropping his French, 
addressed me in the purest and most fluent English. 
He remarked that the best way was to take no more 
notice of the matter, because the mayor had only 
believed himself to be doing his duty in acting as 
he did. 

Stranger. " And you think it served me quite right ? " 

Mr. C. " Oh, no, no ; not at all." 

Stranger. " I thought just now I heard you say so. 
Didn't you tell him that the English required humbling 
now and then ?" 

Mr. C. (hesitating and in some confusion). "Oh, 
there are some of them, you know, who do. You're 
aware yourself of the feeling in England against 
Frenchmen, and how they boast themselves of their 
superiority over the French." 

Stranger. " At any rate, I for my part never do so ; 
it's a species of blustering I detest. On the contrary, 
I always avoid making comparisons, or talking in a 
bombastic manner. Had I been in the habit of doing 
so I should never have experienced the civility I have 
met with whilst travelling in this country. When I 
spoke to the mayor about writing to our Government, 
I did so purely in self-defence." 

Mr. C. " Oh, I see, I see ; you were quite right, quite 
right ! You knew nothing whatever of the people of 
the house?" 

Stranger. " No, certainly ; and two of them were 
unduly excited ; not to such an extent, indeed, as to be 
ignorant of what they were about, but quite enough so 



260 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



to behave most unaccountably and to put me on my 
guard. Had the mayor exercised his proper magisterial 
functions, as he professes to have done, he would not 
only have extended his politeness towards me as a 
stranger, but would have done what he could also to 
prevent the aggression of other people instead of joining 
with them in their violence of demeanour." 

Mr. C. " Oh, well, the best way will be to think no 
more about it. It's rather disagreeable certainly to be 
humbled in that manner ; but are there not oftentimes 
foreigners in England who are humbled also ? These 
mayors, you know, are, generally speaking, uneducated 
men ; many of them can only just read and write. I've 
been telling him I thought you would send up the case 
to the English papers ; for that's the way, you know, 
in which your countrymen generally proceed." 

Stranger. " I've not the slightest desire to make any 
stir about the matter." (I might have added, except 
that he would have repeated it to the mayor, that I 
didn't intend doing anything so foolish, the subject 
being no longer one of any importance ; but it was as 
well the old man should see, that though a village 
magistrate, he was not altogether an irresponsible 
being.) 

Mr. C. " Well, that's right ; let the matter drop ; 
don't say anything more about it. He was under the 
impression, you know, that you were going about the 
country to take surveys of the place." 

Stranger. " Indeed ! You surprise me ; that's some- 
thing new. However, if the matter doesn't subject me 
to any further inconvenience, here's an end of it at 
once." 

Mr. C. " That's right ; it was certainly disagreeable. 
I've no doubt the affair was brought before the notice 



Magisterial Dignity. 261 



of the prefet at Brest ; it must also have been sent up 
to Paris for investigation, as all other circumstances of 
that description are." 

The priest now turned to the mayor, and made some 
remark or other in Breton, which was evidently couched 
in an apologetic strain. I therefore asked him to tell 
me what he had just been saying, for his worship was 
already beginning to assure me that it wasn't his inten- 
tion to press the case — a remark which, as there was 
nothing to press, struck me as being somewhat ludicrous. 
" Oh, stay, stay," I answered ; " it isn't I who have 
anything to apprehend. My papers are all in rule ; 
you mustn't imagine, therefore, that I stand in any 
fear." 

The conversation still went on, and in the course of 
it I was again obliged to remind my zealous friend 
(since, in order to keep up the magisterial dignity, and 
to shield himself as its representative from suspicion of 
ever having been in a state in which no chief magis- 
trate of Pengol ought to be, he still continued to make 
stout protestations of having done his duty strictly, and 
to rejoice in his firmness), that had I been molested 
during the night by infuriated guests at the aaberge, 
I would have had him in my power by virtue of the 
Arret. " Still," as I subsequently remarked to the 
priest, " it would be a difficult, if not impossible, thing 
to prove it in a court of justice, as of course they would 
all deny it, and there would be three to one opposed 
to me." 

" Quite right, quite right," he answered ; "it would 
be a very difficult thing ; they would certainly be every 
one of them against you." 

Of one curious circumstance Mr. C. informed me, 
which undoubtedly was new to the principal personage 



262 



The Pardon of Quingamp. 



implicated in the affair. This was that a crowd had 
followed me through the streets of Lesneven when the 
report of the circumstance arrived. My only surprise 
at this novel intelligence was that the story had not 
been more tragically worked up ; if not that I had 
been stoned to death by the mob, at any rate that I 
had been confined for a week in prison, or sent up to 
the capital under a mounted escort, to expiate in a 
becoming manner the magnitude of my political offence. 
Could this fresh romance have been another of the 
hallucinations of the worthy mayor ? 

My new acquaintance now drew out of his pocket- 
book, and presented me with, his card, at the same 
time inviting me to come over and spend a day or two 
with his uncle, who resided a few miles from Quimper. 
The fact of his speaking English so fluently and with 
an almost perfect accent was sufficiently accounted 
for by his long official residence in England; and 
though he might thus have been able to put me in 
the way of seeing much of interest, yet, as the short- 
ness of our acquaintance did not justify my intruding 
myself upon him, I was obliged politely to decline his 
offer. 

As we neared our destination, he told me that the 
mayor was anxious to take a glass of wine with me 
when we landed ; but, unfortunately, it appeared there 
was no house to go to. The fact is, there must be some 
obstruction in the river a little higher up, for we dis- 
embarked at a wharf where was neither village nor 
hamlet, and were met by several diligences which were 
waiting to take the passengers on to Chateaulin or 
Portlaunay. We had to wait some time whilst our 
luggage was being brought up from the boat, and then, 
when all was ready, the conductors of the several 



A Reconciliation. 263 

vehicles called out our names, and told us which of 
them we were to mount. 

As fate would have it, the mayor and myself were 
destined for the banquette of the same diligence, so it 
would have been hard if a better understanding had 
not eventually taken place. It soon appeared, indeed, 
that the poor man did not know what to do to make 
himself civil, and he kept up a conversation the whole 
way ; for with every readiness to admit that he was 
anxious to make the amende honorable, he was evidently 
likewise uneasy either about my writing to the English 
papers, which he had concluded from Mr. C.'s account 
must be a formidable tribunal, or about my making 
some complaint to the French authorities on the matter 
of the ivrognerie, which, at the least, would not have 
exalted him personally in his capacity of mayor. He 
informed me he was going to Quimper to be present at 
the ordination of one of his nephews on the following 
Sunday, and it was he who told me that the spire of 
the church at Pengol had once been struck by light- 
ning, and partially thrown down. He assured me, 
likewise, that if ever again I were to pass through his 
village he should know immediately who I was. 

Just before alighting at Chateaulin I said to him, 
" And I hear you are under the impression that I was 
taking a survey of the place ?" 

" Yes," said he ; "an old man eighty years of age 
told me you had been so employed for a couple of 
hours, and that you had subsequently been drinking 
brandy and water at his house." 

The quality of French acquired by the mayor was 
unfortunately not first-rate ; moreover, his accent was 
peculiar, and it was difficult at all- times to understand 
what he said, but the driver was in a hurry, and all I 



264 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



could make out was that I had bribed the old man in 
some way or other not to betray the secret of the survey 
I had made. 

" If I have any advice to give you," I called out, as 
the diligence drove off, "it is, when you get back to 
Pengol, never believe one word of what that wicked 
old man says." 

Half the mischief which is rife in the world occurs 
undoubtedly through misrepresentation and exaggera- 
tion, sometimes unconscious, but not unfrequently 
designed. Intelligence, as it passes from mouth to 
mouth, gathers magnitude and strength in its progress, 
like the rolling avalanche, which may originally have 
been generated by the fall or displacement of such an 
insignificant object as the smallest stone. In this case, 
however, there was scarcely the pretext even of the 
minutest cause for the creation of this mass of ab- 
surdities ; for, letting alone the imaginary mob at 
Lesneven, I had during my stay at Pengol taken no 
sketch, drunk no brandy, entered no residence except 
the auberge, nor spoken to any others besides those 
who were in the house ; and to this day, therefore, 
I remain in the blissful uncertainty whether the 
worthy octogenarian of whom his worship made men- 
tion was not, after all, the offspring of his own prolific 
brain. 

The place, it may be added, to which I had been 
invited by the priest, and where his uncle lived, was 
one whose name, either from association or acquaint- 
ance, is familiar to us all. As he wrote the well- 
known word Langollen on his card, I all the more 
regretted that I could not avail myself of his offer, 
wondering at the same time whether here in Brittany 
there might not be likewise some " sweet Jenny Jones " 



Town of Chateaulin. 



265 



to vie with the romance of the once beautiful Welsh 
vale itself. 

Portlaunay, the little town which was mentioned in 
the handbills as the destination of the steamboat, but 
which we reached eventually by diligence, is built in a 
somewhat charming locality on the bank of the river 
Aulne, having lofty hills immediately behind it ; and 
Chateaulin, about a mile further on, is situated exactly 
in the same way. The site, indeed, of the latter town 
is very similar to that of Morlaix. It has a row of 
houses on each bank of the river, which, broad though 
shallow, is here spanned by a handsome bridge. If 
ever it were to become populous, its extension on one 
side would be limited to this single row by a rocky 
precipice rising abruptly in the rear, on whose summit 
are the ruins of an ancient castle, and, about half-way 
up, an isolated church, with an elegant ossuary chapel 
attached to it, in the style of the Renaissance. 

My landlady at Brest had informed me that when at 
Chateaulin I might very well fancy myself in the heart 
of Switzerland ; and, though the comparison which the 
inhabitants thus love to make is much exaggerated, 
yet the country in the neighbourhood, with its wooded 
hills, is rural and beautiful, without being in any way 
on a scale of grandeur which would justify its being 
denominated Swiss. The population of the town is 
somewhere under three thousand, but it contains nothing 
of sufficient interest to detain a stranger. The name 
of Alain the Great, who built the castle, explains at 
once the etymology of the place. 



266 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



LA LECON DES ENFANTS. 



Dbaw nigh, my children, and a simple song 
Anon you'll hear for your instruction made ; 

Apply your understandings, and give heed 
That you retain it in your inmost souls. 

When night's dark veil is lifted from the sky, 
And well refresh'd, your eyelids greet the morn, 

To Him who watch' d while safe you slumber' d, give 
Your undivided hearts, and say with faith, 

" Great God, I yield Thee what to Thee belongs — 
Soul, spirit, body. Oh that I may be, 

"While here I sojourn, honest, good, and true, 
Else let me die while yet my life is young ! " 

What time, when hunger'd, you desire God's gifts, 
Or sit you down His mercies to partake ; 

Or from the well-deck' d board whene'er you rise, 
Eorget not Him all these good things who gave. 

Think how their thanks the warbling birds recite, 
Or for the earthworm, or the grain of corn, 

Or for the dewdrop on the oak-tree branch ; 
One drop of dew, how small £09'er it be. 

At home in daily intercourse with those 

Whom nature whispers should be one with you, 

As brother now, or sister greet ; and teach 
Them one the other with kind words to hail. 

Dark is the raven ; as the raven dark 

Is he who tempts you with insidious wiles : 

Fair is the ringdove, and as gently fair 

Is the good angel who your steps doth guard. 

Know of a truth that God's all-searching eye 
Looks down upon you as the evening star ; 

His love sustains you as the summer sun 
Opes the wild roses on Comana's shore. 



The Children' s Lesson. 



So whensoe'er, in hamlet or in town, 

You know where hangs the bleeding form of Him 
Whose loss was your own gain, pass in and say 

The prayer which pious fervour should dictate. 

If on the highway with respect and awe 

You hail the tokens of His agony, 
The blest companionship that happy day 

Of Him whom angels worship has been yours. 

Then at the church's solemn festival, 

You who are wise shall the rich honour claim 

To strew His pathway with the fairest flowers, 
The better soon His path in heaven to strew. 

But night draws on ; ere sleep doth close your eyes, 
From every foe God's holy aid beseech ; 

Perchance some white-robed choir may come round 
Your couch to watch you in your helpless time. 

Would you, my children, lead a happy life 
And holy ? Bear these words in mind ; 

These precepts practise, till the glorious time 
To reap the fruit of such blest labour comes. 



CHAPTER XIX. 




Start for Quimper. — Description of the City. — The Cathedral. — Old 
Tradition. — An Ordination. — Welsh Clergy. — Dignity of the 
Ancient Bishops of Quimper. — A Citizen's Fete. — Dilemma. — 
Invitation to Ball. — Night. 

j]T six o'clock in the morning the diligence left 
for Quimper. The road was wooded and 
agreeable throughout. Even about ten miles 
from our destination we were already overtaking pea- 
sants on foot on their way to market. The costume of 
many of them, especially in the case of the men, was 
characteristic, though apparently growing gradually 
into disuse. The railway through Brittany, now in 
course of construction, and which will be completed in 
a year or two, will doubtless interfere woefully with the 
manners and customs of ancient times ; but by utili- 
tarians it would be considered almost a crime even to 
be suspected of regretting this. They who make up 
their minds that Quimper is unique will be quite on 
the alert to catch the first glimpse of this venerable 
city. The day being bright, was favourable at any 
rate to the adding of effect, and accordingly the twin 
spires of the cathedral, which are visible in the out- 
skirts and rise up splendidly, gave fairest promise of the 
realisation of this preconceived idea. That extremity 
of the town, however, by which we entered was but ill 
adapted for creating an impression on the mind, for 
it contains its quantum of new and ugly houses, which 



City of Quimper. 269 



in no way harmonise with, the venerable reputation of 
the place. 

But if it was not altogether such as imagination had 
depicted it, it, could not but soon be acknowledged that 
it was an interesting old city, and perhaps the most 
agreeable of the Breton towns. A century ago its 
appearance must have been far more antique than at 
the present day, as many of the more ancient houses 
have apparently within that period been quite rebuilt ; 
still it contains a considerable number which are suffi- 
ciently quaint and picturesque. Being market-day, 
the streets were lively, and the market itself presented 
a most singular and animated scene. It was quite a 
Babel of discordant tongues, whilst the crowd being 
principally composed of peasants from the surrounding 
parts, there was a gay and pleasing diversity in the 
assemblage of costumes. The close-fitting caps worn 
by the women were especially picturesque, whilst their 
vests and gowns, embroidered with red and yellow, gave 
an air of interest to the spot to which even those could 
scarcely have been insensible who were most accus- 
tomed to the sight. 

Everything, as compared with prices in northern and 
central parts of France, was decidedly cheap, though 
not so much so as in Germany and Switzerland. Eggs 
were fourpence a dozen, and a good- sized crawfish 
might be had for sevenpence. Small black cherries, 
exceedingly sweet, were only a penny a pound, and the 
man of whom I purchased them was pouring so many 
for me into a cabbage-leaf, that I was obliged to tell 
him to desist. But these palmy days are nearly over, 
and the first train which passes through Quimper will 
be the signal for a revolution in this happy state of 
things. 



270 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



The chief point of interest in Quimper is its vener- 
able cathedral, which stands out in the midst of its 
public square, and whose twin spires, only recently 
completed, are a masterpiece of art. The striking 
deformity about this otherwise imposing edifice, and 
which is almost completely destructive of the effect, is 
the absurd inclination of the choir to the nave, which 
is even greater here than in the Kreisker Church at 
St. Pol de Leon. Apart from this, the interior, though 
more spacious, is not so handsome even as the Cathedral 
of Treguier, though its having suffered considerably at 
the period of the Revolution may sufficiently account 
for its somewhat meagre details at the present day. 
The exterior, nevertheless, is still very beautiful. The 
delicately- sculptured porch, and the long narrow win- 
dows, thirty feet high, by which the towers are pierced, 
are amongst its most noticeable features. The lovely 
twin spires, with all their ornamentation, erected by 
voluntary contribution, are said to have cost only 
£10,000. They have been but recently finished. The 
restoration of the tower and steeple of Chichester, 
though not nearly so elaborate, is estimated at five times 
that sum. 

Besides the cathedral, there are no other churches of 
note in Quimper, for they have most of them been 
destroyed. In one of these was preserved until 1792 a 
certain wax taper which tradition asserted had been lit 
at the period of the submersion of the city of Is, the 
residence of the great King Gradlon. This taper was 
kept in a chapel on the edge of a well, which, if ever 
the light should be extinguished, was, according to a 
prevalent impression, immediately to overflow and de- 
stroy the town. There is, of course, here nothing 
miraculous to be insinuated in the perpetuity of the 



An Ordination. 



271 



burning, but simply, it may be concluded, that a con- 
tinuous light was to be kept up. However, in that 
philosophical year just named two scientific children, 
anxious to test the reality of the foundation upon which 
the impression rested, had the temerity to approach 
and put it out. They were so far free from the charge 
of utter recklessness as to have another candle with 
them, which they were prepared to light in case they 
saw any signs of the overflowing of the well, though 
fortunately there was no need for this. The precocious 
youths, instead of being rewarded by the inhabitants 
for relieving them of what must have been a sense of 
the possibility at any moment of a frightful catastrophe, 
were chased away for their profaneness, and Quimper, 
after all, has not yet shared the fate of the inundated 
town. 

On the Sunday morning I went into the cathedral 
about ten o'clock, in order to see something of the 
ceremony for which the mayor of Pengol had made 
his journey to Quimper. I found, however, that I was 
a great deal too late, for the service had begun at half- 
past six or seven, and was now nearly over. The 
priests just ordained were attired in the handsomest 
and most gorgeous robes, whilst the deacons wore 
simply gowns with surplices over them reaching down 
to the knee. The bishop had his mitre and his pastoral 
staff, of which he was relieved before he left the edifice. 
A procession was then formed, and the whole of the 
vast company walked onward to the episcopal palace 
close by, chanting a psalm as they went along. When 
they at length came out again in about a quarter of an 
hour, the parents and relatives of many of these were 
waiting to congratulate them in the street. These 
people were all, without exception, peasants of the 



272 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



humbler class, women in caps, and men in broad- 
brimmed hats. A large amount of salutation was 
forthwith exchanged, and a kiss on either cheek, alike 
to male and female, was dispensed by each candidate to 
his delighted friends. 

The life of a country clergyman in England, in a 
parish where there are no resident gentry, is sufficiently 
irksome, if not actually hurtful ; and the fate of these 
young Bretons going forth into still deeper wilds and 
solitudes of the province would indeed be pitiable, had 
not their previous social position been one with the 
peasants of their native place. The identity of circum- 
stance in Brittany and Wales, in this as so many other 
respects, is remarkable. In the mountainous districts 
of the latter country it is essential that the clergy 
should speak the language of the people ; the livings, 
moreover, are small, and there are few great prizes to 
attract an overwhelming number of the sons of the 
upper classes into the Church. It must be a hard 
thing for a Welsh bishop to repress a smile when he 
sees a candidate at his dinner-table in the Ordination 
week, in surprise and bewilderment at the unwonted 
vessel, drinking off the water quietly from his finger- 
glass ; or a real feeling of compassion at his humility, 
when a young man at breakfast thinks it a breach of 
good manners not to finish an offensive egg which his 
neighbour has already discovered has found its way 
accidentally to the episcopal table ; and when he meets 
the remonstrance with the gentle answer, " Ah, it's no 
matter ; it's quite good enough for me." 

But a broad impulse of hilarity must his lordship 
have given way to, when he ascertained that one ambi- 
tious clergyman in his diocese had waited upon his 
friend the barber, to make interest with that otherwise 



Episcopal Power. 



273 



unapproachable functionary, the bishop's cook, in order 
to solicit preferment for him at his master's hands. 
The first two of the above are merely amongst the not 
unnatural incidents of every-day life, and were related 
to me by a party who was present when they occurred, 
The last, however, reads so much like a conventional 
myth, that one feels bound to vouch for its perfect 
accuracy, and I had it from the same source. 

The palmy days of Quimper's episcopal power (per- 
haps, more properly, episcopal tyranny) are past. The 
bishops of this see were at one time almost absolutely 
lords temporal of the town, and disputed fiercely with 
the Dukes of Brittany for their rights. 

On one occasion Duke John V., wishing to impose a 
duty on wines, the bishop, in full canonicals, came 
out upon the Quay, and vented his wrath upon the 
offending tax-gatherers by a summary excommunica- 
tion before all the people. Whenever his lordship 
made an entry into the town, some of the chief nobles 
of the place came to hold his stirrup, pull off his boots, 
and carry him to the high altar in an arm-chair ; and 
it was only in 1386 that the Dukes of Brittany, by a 
decision of the States of Vannes, obtained possession of 
the city keys. 

One morning when in Quimper I caught sight of a 
procession of young women and men passing under my 
window towards nine o'clock. The former were most 
of them dressed in white, without either caps or 
bonnets, and the latter, in their most stylish suits, 
had elaborate sashes of white silk ribbon tied round 
the arm. I asked the landlady of the hotel what it 
meant. She said it was a tradesman's fete, and the 
people were gone to spend the day at an inn about 
half a mile outside the town. Had the procession been 

T 



274 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



composed of peasants in their national costume, the 
occasion would have been more interesting, though as 
it was, after breakfast, I had sufficient curiosity to make 
my way up to the locality indicated to see what was 
going on. 

Passing into the yard of the inn by a side door, I 
found myself at the entrance of an extensive arbour, 
some hundred feet long by thirty broad, entirely made 
up of luxuriant foliage, and forming the coolest and 
most agreeable retreat for a summer's day as could well 
have been devised by human skill. The vegetation was 
too thick on every side for the rays of the sun to 
intrude upon those within, though not sufficiently rank 
to exclude entirely the occasional playing of the passing 
breeze. Exterior, and parallel to this central chamber, 
were other smaller arbours, to which parties could retire 
in more private circles for refreshment and for rest ; 
and as long as the day continued fine the convenience 
was complete. Nothing, however, could have saved 
the pleasure-seekers from a damper, if not an extin- 
guisher to their mirth, if aught unhappily had chanced 
to mar the serenity of the sky. But the weather was 
everything that could be wished, and unmindful of 
twelve long hours yet before them, they were already 
mingling in the festive dance. The musicians were 
standing on a raised platform about half-way up this 
fragile summer-house, and, if the exercise were to be 
kept up continuously till midnight, stood a fair chance 
in the end of being yet far more exhausted than even 
the most diligent of the votaries themselves. It soon 
became evident, however, that all spectators could be 
dispensed with, and accordingly a serious confabulation 
amongst the white- sashed stewards eventually ended 
in a polite message to that effect to the lookers on, 



Locked Out. 



275 



though it accelerated roy departure by a few minutes 
only. 

The remainder of the day was devoted to exploring 
the neighbourhood, and at midnight I was to start for 
Audierne by the courier, in order to visit the Pointe du 
Raz. The hotel at which I was remaining was a large 
house with but few guests, and the landlady being aged 
kept early hours, and informed me that it was her 
custom to shut up at ten o'clock. Towards that time, 
therefore, I issued forth to the auberge from whence 
the conveyance was to start, intending to remain there 
for the next two hours. The people of the house, how- 
ever, had likewise resolved to retire to rest during that 
perplexing period, and gave me the broadest possible 
hint to betake myself away. " Where am I to go ?" I 
inquired. " Is there any cafe likely to be open until the 
courier starts ?" The reply was not encouraging : all 
cafes were bound by law to shut up punctually at ten 
o'clock. My best plan, they added, would be to go up 
and see the fete. But how, I insinuated, was I to go 
to the fete when I was uninvited? " Because," said 
they, "there's a house there which is public, and no 
one can prevent you entering the inn." 

It was with a feeling of uncertainty that I wandered 
forth. Seeing a light in the passage of a cafe on the 
Place near the cathedral, I stopped and knocked at the 
door ; but as no one responded, and I knew that the 
house must shortly be shut up, I continued to stroll 
forward. Scarcely a single light besides was visible at 
the windows of any other of the citizens of this good 
old town, for the people had either all retired to bed, 
or were gone to the fete. Having left the greater por - 
tion of my luggage at the hotel until my return from 
Audierne, I should, under present difficulties, have 



276 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



considered myself almost entitled to begin the siege, but 
that there being no salient point at door or window to 
indicate the sign of wakefulness, I forbore to rouse the 
poor old landlady, and to destroy the pleasure of her 
first sleep. 

A few minutes more brought me to the inn at which 
the fete was being held, and entering one of the public 
rooms, I called for a cup of coffee and sat down. 
Whilst thus seated one of the stewards of the ball came 
up to me with a gensdarme, and by way of civility for 
having been obliged to enforce the rule of non-admit- 
tance to strangers in the morning, asked me whether I 
would not like to come into the arbour and see what 
was going on. Wishing him clearly to understand 
that I had not found my way hither again either out of 
curiosity or from a spirit of intrusion, I told him I was 
only waiting for the departure of the courier, who was to 
start at midnight from the other end of the town. 
" Nevertheless," said he, " I shall have great pleasure 
in conducting you and showing you the coup d'aeil of 
the room." 

" Fm much obliged to you all the same," I answered, 
" but I really am not in ball-room attire ; you see my 
travelling costume." 

" Oh, never mind that for a moment," he continued ; 
" what you have on at present will do perfectly well." 

"Travellers are always unexceptionably dressed," 
interposed the gensdarme ; and so, yielding to their 
solicitations, I followed in their wake." 

' ' Vous allez voir de tres jolies demoiselles," whispered 
he of the police, as with some difficulty we threaded 
our way through the crowded ball-room, in which were 
seated rows of females, one behind the other, young 
and middle-aged, to an extent which left only the very 



The Citizens' Ball. 



277 



minimum of space in which the dancers could perform. 
The crush in fact was serious, and suddenly the music 
striking up, and a waltz commencing, I was hurried 
against, and indeed almost fell bodily into the lap of, 
one of the aforesaid "jolies demoiselles. " Making an 
apology for what I had not been able to avoid, I hastily 
retreated into a less dangerous corner, where the crowd, 
though still as great, was not in motion, and from which 
I was enabled leisurely to watch the scene. 

Though the number of guests had increased full tenfold 
since the morning, it was not likely that any one could 
have ventured to force his way into the midst of the 
arbour who had not previously received an invitation 
from one or other of the appointed stewards. It would 
soon have become known had any one been present 
whose company was undesirable, and as much decorum 
prevailed in the assembly as at an evening party of the 
most exclusive kind. The only incongruity at all 
observable was perhaps in the condition of one or two 
of those who bore on their arms the white silk badge 
of office ; because, what with vin ordinaire in the heat of 
the morning, and mulled wine in the cool of the even- 
ing, holding together their fifteen hours' reign, with- 
out being in any way given to excess, it requires more 
than ordinary caution, even in the most cautious, to 
ascertain the exact limit beyond which it becomes im- 
prudent to proceed. 

But though the effect of violent exercise acting on 
this refreshment may have been somewhat perceptible 
in one or two instances, it did not by any means inter- 
fere with the respect due to their partners in the dance, 
or to the company in general ; the fact being chiefly 
apparent by the sight of two of the white sashes with 
very flushed faces engaged in a violent dispute in one 



278 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



of the ante-rooms of the inn, and which it required all 
the best exertion and mediatory offices of the attendant 
gensdarmes to prevent bursting forth into a more 
serious and violent display. 

It will not be difficult to understand that in this 
polite assembly such a harsh and vulgar medium of 
communication as the Breton language should have been 
instinctively avoided by the pretentious guests, though 
undoubtedly their acquaintance with it must have been 
no slight recommendation for many of those present in 
the estimation of their employers, in order to be able 
on market-days to converse more readily with country 
customers at the shops in which they served ; and that 
natural intimacy with a classic tongue which perhaps 
many a fair inhabitant of some ancient chateau at her 
Legitimist reunions would be proud of acknowledging, 
was here, as a matter of course, ignored. 

But the crush to an idle spectator was overpower- 
ingly inconvenient ; and as I had been compelled, in 
duty bound, from politeness to give up the seat which I 
had secured for five minutes to one of the retiring 
waltzers, and moreover, as I felt I was obstructing the 
view of those behind me, and was likewise every moment 
in danger of being forced unwillingly into some other 
awkward seat by the violent side thrust of many an 
advancing couple, I speedily began to beat a safe 
retreat, though it took no little time to reach once more 
the other extremity of the room, having to make my 
way cautiously by stages through the almost impene- 
trable mass. Having at length escaped from the crush, 
I sought an asylum for the next half-hour in one of the 
vacant side arbours, and then, towards twelve o'clock, 
I strolled back by the brilliant moonlight into the 
sleeping town. 



Night. 



NIGHT. 



What sudden beauty floods the north 

And south ! Awake, whoe'er are dreaming. 

Black eyes from airy heights peep forth, 
And see this silver- white light streaming. 

Ne'er a small wavelet's life too soon, 
Her low luxurious couch forsaken, 

Faint hearts to cheer, the risen moon 
High up her wonted way has taken. 

All day she urged her love, the sea, 
Hid in his heaving breast, to cool her, 

That the more sure she now might be 
The sad and silent night's pale ruler. 

See how he gives her glances back ! 

Read in his face his thoughts so tender, 
Not a faint cloud his warmth to slack, 

Or bid his passion hope surrender. 

Now the soft sight strikes nature dumb, 
The bridesmaid stars look down in wonder, 

Until the jealous morning come, 
To sever their pure loves asunder. 

Your own apportion'd part to take, 
To watch, to joy in this sweet bridal, 

The hour is nigh, awake, awake, 
All who in slumber deep lie idle. 



CHAPTER XX. 




Start for Audierne. — The Village Hairdresser. — Douarnenez. — Pont 
Croix. — Audierne. — Landlord and Landlady. — Sacred Fountain. 
— The Pointe du Raz. — Rocks. — Site of the City of Is. — Early 
Christian Missionaries. — Druid Songs. — Submersion of the City 
of Is. 

j|N my arrival at the anberge I found the people 
of the house, some of whom, by the way, seemed 
only half awake, engaged in making prepara- 
tions for the departure of the courier ; and presently I 
observed a horse issuing forth from the stable, and about 
to be put in a small open chaise. Though the day had 
been warm, the night was cold, and as there was a drive 
of nearly thirty- five miles before us, it was with some 
uneasiness I watched the sight. It soon transpired, 
however, that this was the courier for Pont-l'Abbe, and 
that the Audierne vehicle was not yet brought out. 

The other conveyance proved to be a cabriolet with a 
hood, having seats inside for two, and a place for a 
third on the box by the driver. It was half-past twelve 
before we started, and, owing to a delay at the post- 
office, it was nearly one o'clock when we finally left 
Quimper. During this last delay the seat in front had 
been taken by a young hump-backed man, a friend of 
the driver's, who said he had only made the journey 
from Audierne the previous morning, and was now 
again on his return home. He was by trade a hair- 
dresser, having, probably, the monopoly of the profession 
at his native place ; and though he had formerly resided 



Douarnenez. 



281 



two years at Quimper, where lie had been initiated into 
the mysteries of his craft, he had not the slightest par- 
tiality for that town, and seemed only too glad to be 
going back to Audierne, though having only been 
absent from it for a day. 

As the moon was setting, it was difficult to discover 
the nature of the country through which we passed; 
but, as far as could be distinguished, there appeared to 
be nothing specially noticeable about it. Towards dawn 
we were arriving at Douarnenez ; and it was something 
fine to observe in the uncertain light the heights just 
opposite, between which and those on whose summit we 
now were an arm of the sea apparently ran up. Though 
the prospect in the daytime may, it is possible, have 
been ordinary, yet everything in the dimness was in- 
vested with a sort of undefinable charm ; and the bright 
glow from a lighthouse, only a few hundred yards in 
front of us, added not a little to the mystic nature of 
the scene. 

We remained at Douarnenez about half an hour, and 
after the mail-bags had been dropped at the post-office, 
the driver and his friend the hairdresser adjourned to 
the shop of a grocer and spirit dealer to warm them- 
selves with their petit-verve. It was so cold standing 
still, even under shelter, that strolling about to recon- 
noitre the town was infinitely preferable, though it was 
scarcely light enough to distinguish much. What could 
be seen of it did not by any means produce a favourable 
impression. It is said to contain about four thousand 
inhabitants, and derives its existence chiefly from the 
sardine fishery. They tell you that from this circum- 
stance the odour in the streets is frequently most 
offensive ; but, during our limited stay, it was difficult 
to add one's testimony to this ill report, 



282 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



There was not much of interest in the remainder of 
the journey. A few miles out of Douarnenez we passed 
a small but handsome-looking church — that of Confort 
— with a curious calvaire standing near it. Some time 
afterwards we came to Pont Croix. Here, likewise, is 
a handsome church, with a particularly graceful spire 
and elaborately- sculptured porch. The interior, though 
still worthy of notice, has fallen into considerable decay. 
It has evidently once ranked amongst the principal 
ecclesiastical edifices of Finistere. 

Beyond Pont Croix the country is not very thickly 
inhabited, nor is it, moreover, particularly beautiful. 
As we approached our destination, however, the view 
became more interesting. The sea here runs up in a 
narrow arm for some little distance between rugged 
banks. Audierne is a small town of fifteen hundred in- 
habitants. It is about half a mile or so from the open 
sea, and possesses a convenient little harbour, constructed 
of granite, along the side of which is a row of houses 
of second-rate order. Nevertheless, its protection seems 
to be afforded to fishing-boats alone. At high tide 
the place has an attractive appearance, but when the 
water is out, the neighbouring coast being low and 
sandy, there is nothing to compensate for its distance 
from the sea. 

There is scarcely any town in France which has not 
its open space or promenade of some description, of 
more or less importance, and planted with a propor- 
tionate amount of trees. Upon this at Audierne, at 
seven o'clock in the morning, was being held a busy 
and bustling market, the chief commodities at which 
were eggs and fish. This is a great place for lobsters 
and crawfish, which at present are very cheap. The 
latter average seven francs a dozen, small and great 



Audierne. 



283 



together, or about sixpence apiece ; nor are the former 
very much higher in price. In the winter season, 
however, they are considerably dearer, because then 
they can be sent so much further into the interior 
without the chance of being spoilt. At no very distant 
period it will probably, as in England, be difficult to 
obtain the luxury of the more dainty fish at small sea- 
port towns. 

Audierne, for its size, possesses a very tolerable little 
inn. It was kept by a Parisian, fat and greasy, who 
had married a Breton woman, and appeared to have 
inherited her interest. The poor wife was about five- 
and-forty, though she looked much older, and had only 
given up her freedom for slavery within the last few 
years. She told me, nevertheless, that she had had 
three children, who were all dead, having lost the 
youngest six months previously. Her lord and master 
was a veritable Henry VIII. for corpulence, and 
spoke, or rather roared, to his trembling partner in a 
voice of thunder. Fortunately, he appeared too un- 
wieldy to do her much harm beyond giving her an 
occasional fright, and when this was over her presence 
of mind returned. But how humiliating for a wife ! 
The heat of the day made his visage oily, though had 
he been a native Breton, instead of a Parisian, I should 
not probably have so much regretted his presence at 
the table d'hote. 

About noon I set out in a vehicle for the Pointe du 
Raz. The country through which we passed, though 
in many districts thickly inhabited, was by no means 
fertile. It is frequently covered with extensive heath, 
and the fields being divided off into small portions, 
each proprietor farms his own bit as well as he can. 
Though somewhat wild in its appearance, there was 



284 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



more about it of the picturesque than in the monoto- 
nous and more highly-cultivated districts of the inte- 
rior. Not far from the village of Primelen I stopped 
to see a sacred fountain, under a low dolmen, which 
was once an object of veneration and worship amongst 
the ancient Celts. The dolmen itself is too minute to 
be of interest, but the sacred spring beneath it (as a 
Druidical relic) is probably almost the only one in the 
country which now remains as such. The driver like- 
wise pointed out a church, in which, on the days of the 
Pardon, they sell holy keys, which have been blessed 
by the priest, at the rate of five for a halfpenny. These 
keys are useful in throwing to mad dogs ; but whether 
the virtue lies in the solemn benediction, or in the 
hardness of the iron, which is expected to injure the 
canine teeth, the little coachman, being of tender years, 
did not say. 

A low menhir is passed about a league from the 
Point ; then there is also the minute and primitive 
Chapel of Notre Dame de bon Voyage ; and, as we 
reach our destination, we approach the lighthouse which 
warns the unsuspecting seaman of the treachery of the 
coast. It is a plain square building, and stands at 
some little distance from the edge of the cliff, for the 
chain of rocks continues several hundred yards beyond. 
I walked over these, following two barefooted boys as 
guides, who, on the arrival of a vehicle, had run up to 
show the way. The aspect of this rugged coast is 
imposing ; not, indeed, that perhaps at first sight it 
comes up to the anticipations which may have been 
conceived from local descriptions, though you certainly 
are gained upon unresistingly by degrees. Just beyond 
the lighthouse you pass, on your right hand, a deep 
and abrupt chasm between two rocks, the ledges on 



The Point e du Raz. 285 



the sides of which, are tenanted by innumerable sea 
birds. You can scarcely look down into the abyss 
without a feeling of giddiness, and an instinctive im- 
pulse to draw yourself back ; and when you drop a 
stone amongst them, the birds set up a shrill and angry 
scream, and fly towards the sea in crowds. 

Beyond this, in order to gain the extreme edge of 
the cliff, you pass along a chain of precipitous rocky 
heights, and are obliged to creep on cautiously, holding 
tightly to the projecting sides. Down one of the fright- 
ful chasms beneath us a gentleman had cast himself a 
few years before. He had sustained pecuniary losses, 
and, previous to setting out on his journey, left a note 
behind him to his friends stating his intention of 
committing suicide, and indicating the Pointe du Raz 
as the fatal spot. His body was never recovered, but 
his coat was found lying on the place from which 
he must have taken the terrible leap. 

Above us, not far from the extremity of the cliff, was 
a rock-peak overlooking immediately the entire depth 
of the promontory, almost, apparently, two hundred and 
fifty feet ; whilst far beneath, on a low flat table in the 
midst of the sea, stood a couple of cormorants, looking 
leisurely on the water. They felt much too secure to 
move from their own lawful resting-place, nor could a 
volley of stones aimed at them, and falling harmlessly 
around, dislodge them from their seat. 

It is at the Pointe du Paz, not far from which is 
that dangerous coast which bears the ominous appella- 
tion of the Bay of the Dead, that tradition places the 
site of the ancient city of Is, the residence of King 
Gradlon. Less than three hundred years ago it is 
authentically stated that the remains of a vast and 
important town were still visible at this spot, but every 



286 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



trace of it has long since disappeared. Cambry, how- 
ever, says that it is yet possible for fishermen to detect 
with their anchors the presence of extensive walls 
below the surface of the water, and that when the 
neighbouring coast is swept by a storm, and the sand 
displaced by the hurricane, the remains of blackened 
elm trees may be discovered underneath. There is 
likewise not far off a small haven which still bears the 
name of Toul-ar-Dahut (Gulf of Dahut), in memory 
of the wicked princess, the daughter of Grradlon, whose 
crimes are said to have been the cause of the submersion 
of the city in the fifth century. 

It will readily be conceived from the remoteness of 
the event that very little can be known reliably with 
regard to it. One version of the record states that, 
built in a low situation, it was only preserved from the 
encroachment of the waves by sluices and dikes, of 
which King Gradlon kept the golden key. His daughter 
was in the habit at night-time of receiving those who 
came to her as lovers with their faces concealed within 
a treacherous mask, which in the morning closed upon 
them by a secret spring. Their bodies were then cast 
down into the gulf which still bears her name, from 
which, we are told, may be heard to issue the plaintive 
wailings of their disembodied souls at this very day. 

Solicited by one of these paramours, she incautiously 
promised, at his earnest entreaties, to obtain for him the 
fatal key. The king, her father, is represented as lying 
on his couch when his daughter approaches barefooted 
to his side, and silently takes the chain from off his 
neck. Still he slumbers, unconscious of the theft, till 
suddenly awoke by St. Gruenole, his adviser, he is made 
acquainted with the frightful fact. " Haste, haste, my 
lord, away; the city is submerged ! " The monarch rises 



A Tradition. 



287 



in trepidation speedily, and flies, his daughter on his 
horse behind him, and St. Guenole in his company ; 
but the saint adjures him as he values his life to rid 
himself of the demon with whom he rides. He does so, 
and the princess falls, to grapple with and perish in 
the advancing flood. King Gradlon on his escape took 
up his residence at Quimper, where, as we have seen, 
there existed up to the close of the last century a taper 
which was kept burning incessantly over a well within 
one of the then numerous churches, and on the ex- 
tinguishing of .which, according to the prevalent im- 
pression, a like fate was to overtake the town. 

Though the story, as thus related, is of course a 
myth, it does not follow of necessity that this monarch 
was a fabled personage, or that his city was not de- 
stroyed by an irruption of the sea, or that he conse- 
quently did not afterwards come to reside at Quimper ; 
for there were others subsequently in Brittany of the 
same name. The most singular and interesting cir- 
cumstance, however, in connection with it, is the fact 
of a similar legend being current both in Wales and 
Ireland. The coincidence is not at all surprising when 
we come to consider the identity in race of these three 
nations ; even the less so, indeed, is it when a distin- 
guished modern traveller tells us of the legend of the 
satyrs and the cyclops being faintly traceable amongst 
the negroes of equatorial Africa, and when we re- 
member also how many of the stories in classical 
mythology have much in common with the events 
related in sacred history, from which they doubtless 
were originally derived. 

The account of the submersion of the city of Is, 
though probably it has no connexion with it, strikes 
me, whether fancifully or not, as not altogether dis- 



288 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

similar to the story of Samson, whose paramour obtains 
from him the key, or secret of his great strength, and 
when he sleeps betrays him for the gratification of her 
other male friends ; a catastrophe ensuing, which ends 
in a vast and sudden destruction of life. But of course 
every legend is subject to alteration in the lapse of 
time, and becomes modified to other local events. It 
may be added, however, that in the commemorative 
song there is mention made of King Grradlon's white 
hair, which while he slept would have filled the specta- 
tors with admiration and surprise, a point likewise in 
common with the history of the strong man. 

The bards who composed the earlier of the tradi- 
tionary songs, both in Wales and Brittany, were them- 
selves Christianised descendants of the ancient Druids, 
and adapted the mythical lore of the latter to the 
exigencies of the new faith, just as they planted its 
symbols without resorting to destruction on the out- 
ward ensigns of the old creed. Never, indeed, could 
Roman pontiff have spoken words of sounder sense 
than these when he sent forth his emissaries into this 
distant land : " To take away everything at once from 
uncultivated minds were an impossible attempt; for 
he who would gain the summit must raise himself by 
slow degrees, and not by fitful leaps. Beware, then, 
of demolishing the temples ; destroy, indeed, the idols, 
but be careful to place relics in their stead." 

The missionaries were faithful to these instructions, 
and crowned, as we have seen, the menhir with the 
cross ; not only this, they taught the bards whom they 
gradually gained over to transform the heathen into 
the Christian hymn. We in this country would doubt- 
less be inclined to think the latter almost as mystic as 
the former ; still it was an improvement, nevertheless. 



A Mystic Song. 



289 



One of the most ancient amongst the old Pagan songs 
is in the form of a conversation between a Druid and a 
child. The former asks the uninitiated what he shall 
sing. The boy inquires for the mysteries of the various 
numerals. Sing me, says he, the series of the number 
one. The Druid replies, There is no series ; necessity 
is one ; death the parent of grief ; nothing is before it, 
there is nought beyond. He then continues to relate 
the sequences of the other numbers till he comes to 
twelve, some of them being at first sight as unmeaning 
as we may well conceive. This song, however, was 
thus adapted to the exigencies of the Christian faith : — 

" Die mihi quid unus ? 
Unus est Deus 
Qui regnat in ccelis. 
Die mihi quid duo ? 
Duo sunt testamenta. 
Unus est Deus 
Qui regnat in coelis," &c. 

In short, the twelve points they were taught to know 
were these : — that there is one God ; two testaments ; 
three great prophets ; four evangelists ; five books of 
Moses ; six water-pots at the marriage of Cana ; seven 
sacraments ; eight beatitudes ; nine choirs of angels ; 
ten commandments ; eleven stars which appeared to 
Joseph ; lastly, twelve apostles. And, strange to say, 
according to M. de Villemarque, just as the former was 
wont to be chanted in the schools of the Druids, the 
latter, until within the last few years, was periodically 
sung in the Seminary of Quimper ; a remarkable in- 
stance of the tenacity of ancient customs amongst this 
most conservative people. 

This digression, however, has a beariug on the sub- 
ject of the traditionary song of the submersion of the 

u 



2 go The Pardon of Guingamp. 



city of Is. The bay of Cardigan, in Wales, is said to be 
the site of the corresponding town in our own small 
continent ; and in the twelfth century the fishermen on 
the coast of some particular part of Ireland were still 
said to be able to recognise in the depths of the water 
the remains of the round towers of ancient days. The 
Irish tradition is not so clear as the Welsh ; but in the 
latter, which was composed in the fifth century, there 
are several lines almost identical with the local Breton 
song. The names Gwaeleod in Welsh, and JSTeaz in 
Irish, by which the respective cities in these two 
countries were known, signify low or hollow, and are 
the same with the Breton word Is ; and it will be 
found, on reference, that the last-named monosyllable 
has the same signification also in Welsh. 

Such close identity between the two (for in both the 
daughter of the king is changed into a syren) would 
almost justify the conclusion that a catastrophe such as 
that which is here recorded gave rise to the song in 
one or other of these two countries (most probably in 
Brittany), and the tradition, being carried over by the 
bards into the other, may have been subsequently made 
use of and applied in after-times to the case of some 
once inhabited locality which had been gradually de- 
stroyed by the encroachment of the sea. The lofty 
headland of the Pointe du Eaz does not certainly cor- 
respond with the signification which is implied in the 
Breton Is ; though the positive assertion, by a trust- 
worthy witness, that the remains of an extensive town 
were still visible at this spot some three hundred years 
ago, would seem to place the matter beyond any doubt. 

If the existence of the city is merely to be under- 
stood as having been in the neighbourhood of the Pointe 
du Raz, it need not be, then, a matter for the least 



Extinction of Traditions. 



291 



surprise, since a few miles beyond this, towards the 
south-east, in the bay of Audierne, the coast is low and 
sandy, and has evidently been encroached upon by the 
action of the sea. It is there, indeed, as some more 
plausibly affirm, that the city stood ; and, as will be 
seen in the following chapter, a man credibly informed 
me the next day that he had frequently seen the 
remains of one of the walls of a building in King 
Gradlon's capital when the tide was low. The fact, 
therefore, may be safely assumed — and this is one step 
towards the authenticity of the rational part of the tra- 
dition — that extensive buildings once existed in this 
locality, on tracts of land which have long since been 
subject to the dominion of the sea. 

On returning from the inspection of these romantic 
cliffs, I met a party of priests coming along the narrow 
track in single file, bent on a similar exploration. One 
of their number, however, who did not think himself 
sufficiently sure-footed, had remained behind, and as I 
came back toward the lighthouse, he wished me the 
civilities of the afternoon. Thinking he would be 
likely to know something of the traditions of the place, 
I took the opportunity of asking him whether anv 
ancient superstitions yet existed amongst the peasantry 
of these parts. He replied at once that he was resident 
in the neighbourhood, and could assure me positively 
there were none whatever. 

It is almost a pity that there is no inn near this spot 
for the accommodation of travellers, for in the raging 
of a storm the sight of these rocks, exposed to the 
violence of the terrible Atlantic, must be an imposing 
spectacle. A few days afterwards I met a person in one 
of the public vehicles who, in a very characteristic man- 
ner, gave the impressions of his visit to the same spot. 



292 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



" I was remaining at Audierne," lie said, " for three 
months ; and the first time I approached the Pointe I 
was seized with a great feeling of disappointment that 
this should be the place of which I had heard so much. 
I was just at that moment beyond the lighthouse ; 
however, as I had come so far, I thought to myself I 
might as well advance a little further and take another 
look. "Well, accordingly I proceeded— mais pas tant 
mal done — yet a few steps more, still on and on — ah, 
parbleu ! — the more I went the more my disappoint- 
ment vanished ; and by the time I got near the end of 
the promontory I was fairly impressed with the grandeur 
of the scene. I returned to it again the following 
Sunday, equally well pleased; and, in fact, I did so 
once nearly every week during my three months' stay." 

In the evening, whilst strolling about on the Quay at 
Audierne, watching the arrival of the fishing- boats 
after their day's excursion, I received a passing salute 
from my late travelling companion, the hairdresser of 
the village. I thereupon stopped to speak to him. 
He had remained behind at Douarnenez in the morn- 
ing, but had come on home by another opportunity in 
the afternoon. He was delighted to be back, for he 
detested Quimper, and Audierne was — oh, such a de- 
lightful place ! Here he could amuse himself as he 
liked : he frequently went out fishing, and was some- 
what of an adept at catching soles. And it was easy, 
indeed, to see that it was a genuine feeling of affection 
which he entertained for his native place. 

Most people, after they have vaunted at school in 
valiant championship, and perhaps fought and bled for 
the superlative merits of their own respective towns, 
are content henceforward with a silent patronage. It 
was not, then, any the less gratifying on that account 



Submersion of the City of Is, 293 



to hear duke domum harped thus feelingly. Neverthe- 
less, for all that, I am justified in asserting that, with 
the exception of what was once an ancient monastery of 
Capuchins, the extensive gardens of which, with their 
venerable oaks, are still surrounded by walls, grey, old, 
and lofty, guarded also by a dog as fierce as Cerberus, 
there is little of interest, at any rate to a stranger, in 
the village which gave birth to the enthusiastic per- 
ruquier. 



LA SUBMEESION BE LA YILLE D'IS. 



1. 

Say hast thou heard, say hast thou heard what saith 
The man of God to him, our noble liege, 
In this the peerless city who doth dwell ? 
Oh warning words ! oh words of woe ! Forbear 
(To him who knows not now shall knowledge come) 
Thyself to love and love's delights to yield : 
Befit thee not those short, those hollow joys, 
The which remorse, repentance, pain, succeed. 



II. 

King Gradlon said, " Convivial comrades mine, 
An aged man, this little hour I'll sleep ; 

With your warm blood accords the generous wine ; 
Till the day dawn your watchful vigil keep." 

Softly he comes with words of passion, he 
To his lord's daughter who long love had sworn : 

" Your word, sweet princess, list — the mystic key ? 
He slumbers on, your royal sire, till morn." 



294 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



in. 

Who, upon Ms couch reclining 

Had that aged monarch seen, 
Sleeping, dreaming, ne'er divining 

Bum, death, so near had been, 

Would haye stood and gazed with wonder; 

O'er his breast his white hair streams ; 
And those purple folds from under, 

What the jewell'd sheath which gleams ? 

^Neath the fitful lamp-beam chancing 
Near him, whose those gentle hands ? 

Hush ! With stealthy step advancing, 
By his couch the traitor stands, 



IV. 

Sleep on, sleep on, till injured night reveal 
Pale waning stars, with mirth and music low ; 

Sleep on, sleep on : but ah ! how soft may steal 
Death o'er sweet sleep, too little dost thou know, 

Sleep on, sleep on — but hark ! — " My master, rise ! 

Or death from sleep shall seize its injured reign : 
To horse ! to horse ! " the saintly counsellor cries, 

66 The roaring waters are in all the plain." 



v. 

Forester, forester, heed me, say 

(None but knows his headlong speed), 

O'er the lorn valley hast seen to-day, 
Galloping past, King Gfradlon's steed ? 

No, but in rapid and frantic chase, 
In the black night I heard him bound, 

Einging his hoof at a fearful pace, 
Striking the fire along the ground, 



Submersion of the City of Is. 



Hast, where flows with a margin green, 
This swift rivulet, cool and clear, 

Eisherman, e'er a maiden seen, 

Standing, washing her golden hair ? 

Yes, and I've seen her long locks float 

Down the beautiful syren's side; 
Wept I o'er her sorrowful note, 
Sadder than ever the rising tide. 



CHAPTER XXI. 



Plouhinec. — An Old Soldier. — His Eespect for the English.— Druidical 
Eemains. — Pontl' Abbs'. — WalktoKerity-Penmarch. — Picturesque 
Peasants. — A Euined City. — Primitive Threshing. — The Breton 
Farmer ; his Nag. — My Guide ; his Defection. — The Torche. — An 
English Picnic. — Eeturn to Pont l'Abbe. — Coming back from the 
Fair. — The Fishermen. — Ancient Customs. — Old Wedding Songs. 

BADE adieu to Audierne on the following 
morning, having hired a conveyance to take 
me as far as Pont l'Abbe, in order to see 
some Druidical remains on the shore between the two 
places ; intending from the last-named town to make 
an excursion to the ruined city of Kerity-Penmarch, 
and then to return finally in two days to Quimper. 
I set out at half-past twelve, and at about a league 
from Audierne alighted at the little village of Plou- 
hinec, to make inquiries at a public-house about the 
monuments in question. The landlord at once replied 
that he knew all about them, and would come and show 
me the way. Accordingly, he conducted me down to 
the shore, where first of all he pointed out a low rock 
rising from the dry sand which is never now touched 
by the sea. This rock, he said, was called the Breuye, 
and many people came to see it ; it was extremely curi- 
ous, though certainly he did not know why ! This 
was the only information he was able to give concern- 
ing it, though a minute examination did not in any 
way tend to elucidate the secret as to the special point 
in which the curiosity lay. The only conclusion, there- 




An Old Soldier. 



297 



fore, to be arrived at was, either that there must have 
been some tradition concerning it of which he was 
ignorant, or else that the interest centred in the fact of 
its standing on a spot once covered by the sea. 

The man was very shrewd for one in his circum- 
stances, and tolerably well informed. He had served 
his time in the array, which accounted for his smatter- 
ing of French, and he professed likewise a few stray 
words of Grerman and Spanish which he had picked up 
from some of his comrades both at home and at the 
Peninsula. He expressed himself highly delighted at 
being able to show a stranger the curiosities of the 
place. "You're very fortunate/' said he, " to have 
found me : I was just on the point of going out to reap 
the corn ; and then if you had missed me you wouldn't 
have been able to get any one to understand you, for 
here they all talk Breton/' 

He told me he remembered when a child to have 
witnessed an engagement in the bay between a French 
and English frigate ; yet, though an old soldier, he did 
not, at any rate now, approve of war : he thought all 
the world ought to live at peace, and that was the 
advice which he always gave to the people at his inn 
when they happened to fall out. The remains of the 
wall, which he said belonged to the old city of Is, and 
were visible at low water, were known by the appella- 
tion of La Granielle. He spoke of it, not as a tradition, 
but as an every-day sight, and told me I could see it 
when the tide went out. Unfortunately, however, the 
water was just now coming up, and not being yet at its 
height, I was unable to remain until it again went 
down. 

After walking some little distance along the shore we 
came to what he called a Roman cemetery. There was 



298 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



no other monument here, however, than a small low 
dolmen, and close to it what looked like a shallow grave 
lined with stones. With reference to this last he told 
me that an Englishman had come, some few years ago, 
to open it ; he was with him at the time, and they had 
found within some ashes and charcoal, if not bones. 

The old soldier was well up in the history of " le roi 
Gradlon," and was familiar also with many of the tra- 
ditions of the place. " Ah," said he, " the English had 
possession of all this country once : I wonder what 
could have induced them to leave it : they buried their 
treasures in every direction before they went away, and 
put stone crosses to indicate the spot, for whenever they 
should return. A few years ago a man dug under one 
of these, and found a considerable sum." He seemed 
to entertain the greatest respect and admiration for 
" les Anglais," who evidently as a nation were heroes 
in his sight. " In their time," he continued, alluding 
to the port or inlet near which we stood, " in their time 
the sea went up for a considerable distance into what is 
at present dry land. Ah, if they had been here now, 
what a magnificent harbour they'd have built ! " 

As we were walking back from the inspection of 
another dolmen he made the remark that the expanse 
before us was a splendid bay ; and then suddenly stop- 
ping and looking towards the horizon, as though he 
had half expected it, he exclaimed with great serious- 
ness in an under-tone, " Ah, zounds ! but if a hundred 
thousand English were now all at once to appear ! " 
He seemed not a little proud of his sagacity and ac- 
quirements ; and on my assuring him he was the only 
person I had yet met who was acquainted with the 
antiquities of his own neighbourhood, he exultingly 
replied, " When you return to your native land you 



Town of Pont P Abbe. 



299 



can tell your countrymen that you fell in with an old 
soldier who showed you all the curiosities of the place." 
I accompanied him to his anberge, and tendered him a 
franc. Yery much gratified, he took off his hat, and 
expressed the hope that if ever I came that way again 
I would call and visit him. His wife came out with 
him to the door to see me start, and as I drove off, 
there he stood with his uplifted hat to offer me a last 
salute. 

There was nothing very remarkable in the remaining 
portion of the route. I reached Pont l'Abbe towards 
the close of the afternoon, making up my mind for 
something very quaint and picturesque in the aspect of 
this little town. One highly-coloured account which I 
had just been reading represented it as a place of in- 
teresting antiquity, where, whilst traversing its silent 
streets, you might almost imagine yourself to have 
been transported to one of the favourite old cities of a 
middle age. 

JSTot a little disappointment was consequent on these 
enchanting words ; for, except that it has certainly 
some appearance of antiquity, and possesses one or two 
old houses, it seemed to be a very ordinary, and not 
particularly interesting town. Depend upon it, had it 
been such a charming place, it would have been cap- 
tured by the English long before. It consists princi- 
pally of one long street, together with a third-rate square. 
It once could boast its castle of the thirteenth century, 
and not without reason, as is affirmed by those who re- 
member it ; but the design of the age being to oblite- 
rate as much as possible the tradition of that elevated 
taste which it cannot hope to emulate, they have en- 
tirely destroyed what the Revolution has spared, and 
have spitefully modernised the whole. A church once 



300 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



attached to the Convent of Carmelites, and built by a 
respectable architect, has been treated likewise much 
in the same way. 

The following morning I set out on foot to see the 
remains of the ruined city of Kerity-Penmarch, toge- 
ther with the neighbouring coast. On making in- 
quiries as to the distance, I was told it was about six 
miles. Of course I mentally added just one-half, 
which tested the rule completely, for it proved to be 
nine good miles. It was fair- day at Pont l'Abbe, and the 
country-people were flocking into town, many of them 
on foot. They were almost all, without exception, attired 
in the costume of the district, and I had scarcely as 
yet seen any concourse of peasants so universally pic- 
turesque. The dress of the women was a tight-fitting 
cap, which allowed only just a portion of the hair to be 
visible, and that a thin band of it at the back. Their 
skirts or petticoats had chiefly thick yellow borders 
towards the extremity, and their vests were embroi- 
dered with concentric segments of green and yellow, 
gold and red. The men were clad in a similar distinc- 
tive fashion. A number of carts drawn by oxen were 
plodding sluggishly along. Occasionally a horse was 
yoked in front of these. Some few of the peasants 
were leading in refractory pigs — no yevy easy task ; and 
one young woman was trudging her weary way with 
apparently no other object than to sell a couple of 
young ducks. 

Before arriving at Penmarch, near a farm called 
Kerscaven, are passed two lofty menhirs, as also the 
same number of dolmens. One of these is known by 
the appellation of the House of the Dwarfs, a contrast 
to the legends of similar monuments in other countries, 
which usually are attributed to gigantic hands. On 



Kerity-Penmarch . 



301 



approaching your destination you perceive abundant 
traces of the ruins of this ancient Breton town : towers 
of churches, fountains, crumbling walls, deserted 
habitations are scattered at intervals over an immense 
extent of ground, and give the broken surface rather 
the appearance of a number of contiguous villages than 
of one large place. The city, which was never fortified, 
was once of great commercial importance, and inhabited 
by wealthy merchants, who, to protect themselves on the 
attack of pirates, or on the invasion of their English ene- 
mies, had their houses surrounded by embattled walls and 
flanked by towers, on the summit of which were belfries, 
whence sounded out alarm when danger threatened. 

The architecture of many of these buildings is of the 
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, soon after which 
period the declension of the town began. The armorial 
bearings over the Gothic portal of one of them are those 
of the ancient family of Cheffontaine, which is spoken 
of elsewhere as the modernised name for the Breton 
Penfentenio. The site of the city is altogether low. 
The attestation to the original wealth of its inhabitants 
would seem to be plausibly borne out by the fact of 
some of the deserted roads being still known as those 
of the money-changers and silversmiths, names which 
the streets once themselves bore. 

One of the two villages made up out of the wreck 
of this formerly vast town is now called Penmarch, in 
contradistinction to the other, which is termed merely 
Kerity. At the entrance to the first of these stands 
the so-called cathedral or church of St. None. It is 
of moderate size, built in degenerate Gothic, but with 
here and there some very handsome details. Traces 
of rich stained glass, on which were the armorials of 
many of the old Breton families, benefactors to the 



302 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

church, yet survive. The building is still used as a 
place of worship, being in tolerable preservation, and 
has been recently patched up. The sculpture of ships 
upon the outer stonework of portions of the edifice 
alluded to the source of wealth of the inhabitants of 
the town, which received its death-blow on the esta- 
blishment of the fisheries at Newfoundland. 

Wishing to follow the road which skirts the shore, 
in order to see something of the coast, I made inquiries 
at an inn which I had entered, whether it was possible 
to obtain a vehicle of some description in which I 
could afterwards return to Pont l'Abbe. I was told 
that was impossible, every vehicle having been pressed 
into the service on account of its being the day of the 
fair. "Isn't there even one solitary pony ? " I exclaimed, 
with something like despair. " Well, that's just indeed 
possible/' said the man who had served me ; and on 
my asking him to do so, he led the way to a farmhouse 
in the vicinity, at which, if anywhere, the nag was to 
be had. 

We found the owner busy beating out his corn in 
the old primitive fashion with his horses, a custom 
which still seems to hold in these parts, for I had 
noticed another similarly employed as I entered the 
village. The animals are yoked together under a 
projecting beam which moves lightly on a pivot, and 
they are then, by dint of continuous shouting and the 
application of a whip, urged round in a circle at a 
rapid pace. On my telling him I was alone, and 
asking whether he had not a spare horse to let out, 
the farmer assured me he had only one at all likely to 
suit, but that the creature was too thin for use. 

" Will you at any rate let me look at it ? " said L 
I followed him into the stable, and found, to my surprise, 



A Primitive Arrangement. 303 

instead of the lean, bony nag I had anticipated, a fat 
little stallion, fleshy and well fed. 

" How much will you give for him ? " asked the man. 

" Three francs," I replied ; for in most country places 
in Brittany you can hire a pony the whole day for this 
sum. 

" A hundred sous ! " he answered, determined to do 
some bargaining ; though if I had begun by offering a 
franc I should doubtless have sealed the agreement 
speedily for twenty pence. The farmer, however, 
seeing that I was anxious to obtain the use of the 
animal, and knowing that he could otherwise turn him 
to account that day, stuck as near as possible to his 
price, and so I finally arranged with him for four francs. 

" And at what hour will you arrive at Pont T Abbe ? " 
continued he, apparently much gratified at his success, 
"for I shall want the animal by midnight to tread out 
•the corn." 

It was now one o'clock, and I told him I hoped to 
be back in town by six ; and it was therefore arranged 
that a little ragged urchin in his employ was to come 
and point out the way to the two curious rocks which 
are shown to strangers, and afterwards to bring the 
creature home. The boy, who could speak nothing 
but Breton, on being informed of this plan by his 
master, at once fell to whining and crying, fearing he 
would have to walk more than he cared about. I, 
however, told him through the interpreter that directly 
we got out of the village he could jump up behind, an 
assurance which relieved him somewhat of his distress. 
I now requested the man to be as quick as possible, 
and he thereupon went into the stable to give the 
horse a feed of oats. I followed him and asked him 
where he kept the saddle. 



304 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



" The saddle ? " said he. , " Oh, that's gone into the 
fair." 

" Indeed ! " I ejaculated ; " and the bridle also ? " 
" Yes ; bridle, saddle, and everything are gone into 
the fair." 

" What in the world, then, are we to do ?" 
" Don't make yourself uneasy ; I'll manage about 
that." 

And here he fell to extemporising for the absent 
articles. For a saddle he stuffed a pillowcase with 
straw ; the bridle was a piece of rope ; the stirrups 
were of the same material ; whilst a fragment of twine 
running over the animal's head kept the bit steady in 
his mouth. It was only sheer necessity which could 
have induced me to put up with this primitive tackling, 
for otherwise I should have had to give up the idea 
entirely of exploring the coast. Meanwhile, the urchin 
who was to accompany me as guide was taking his 
dinner within the house. The cooking was neither 
elaborate nor sumptuous. A caldron of stirabout made 
from the flour of buckwheat was simmering on the 
fire, the farmer's wife keeping it in motion with a long 
stick. Some of this she poured into a bowl of milk, 
and in this frugal fare consisted the repast. As soon 
as the stuff became cool upon the stick the woman 
began to peel it off and eat it. Had it only been 
sweetened when mixed with the milk, the taste would 
not, after all, perhaps have been so bad, though in this 
case hunger was the best sauce. 

When all the preparations were complete, I told the 
old soldier to be particularly careful in explaining to 
the boy that he was to follow me first to the lighthouse, 
and then afterwards conduct me to the rocks which 
were of interest, all this it being agreed he was to do. 



Defection of Guide. 



305 



As the charger was caparisoned I now set off, having 
still the ruins of the town at intervals on either side. 
At the extremity of the high-road, as you reach the 
coast, stands a lofty lighthouse. 

In answer to my inquiry the keepers informed me 
that the rocks in the neighbourhood, which were 
pointed out as curious, were known respectively as 
" Le Trou du Diable " and " La Torche." To be certain, 
nevertheless, of being shown the right ones, I asked 
them to explain the matter clearly to my guide. The 
urchin, however, when they broached the subject, 
declared that his master had instructed him only to 
accompany me as far as the lighthouse, a portion of 
the journey for which I needed no assistance. As he 
persisted amusingly in the cool assertion, which per- 
haps, after all, may have been true, I began to threaten 
him with his employer's vengeance, but with small 
effect, for instead of waiting to listen to the terrible 
denunciation, he had the wisdom and sagacity without 
any further ceremony to trot back home. It was cer- 
tainly a nuisance, but I eventually succeeded in hiring 
another guide, who, though likewise only conversant 
with Breton, was made acquainted by the keepers with 
the objects I wished to see. 

There are no traces here distinguishable of the 
harbour which formerly existed, and was of consider- 
able extent. On the way toward the rocks are passed 
two others of the ruined churches, of which there are 
altogether six. Of these there is one which owed its 
erection to the Knights Templars, whilst that of St. 
Gruenole, though probably never completed, is of fine 
design. Our course lay over a sandy waste in which 
was scarcely any beaten track, the aspect of the deserted 
city on the other side being quite in keeping with this 

x 



306 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



savage scene. The Devil's Hole is about three miles 
from the lighthouse. It is a huge fissure in the side 
of a rock, through which the sea rushes with tremendous 
— or to harmonise with its characteristic title, it might 
have been said frightful — violence at the incoming of 
the tide, and whose roar is declared by Freminville, 
with some exaggeration, to be audible at Eennes, a 
distance of one hundred and fifty miles. 

The other rock, or collection of rocks, known as the 
" Torche," is somewhat more than a mile beyond, 
The sea here again rushes through with similar vio- 
lence, and the fissure in this instance is due to the 
gradual loosening and final falling away, from the 
action of the waves, of a large vein of quartz, which 
was originally incorporated into the mass. It lies at 
the back of a lofty mound, on the summit of which in 
the distance I had noticed two black specks, in whose 
existence and position, somehow or other, I thought 
perhaps consisted the curiosity of the spot. On coming 
nearer I perceived an extensive group of peasants, 
men, women, and children, seated there quietly doing 
nothing, and the two black spots close to them proved 
to be a couple of carriages, from the shafts of which 
the horses had been removed. 

I was at a loss at first to understand the connection 
between the peasants and the vehicles, but as I passed 
on to the other side of the mound I came upon a party 
of five English people of the same sex (about half the 
British colony), who had come over from Quimper on a 
picnic for the day. The locality seemed so remote, 
and the scene so wild, that I was quite unprepared for 
this show of civilisation at such a spot. I could not 
say with truth that I regretted catching the glimpse 
cf these five English ladies (for the sight of one's 



An English Picnic. 



307 



countrywomen abroad is always refreshing, and I felt 
almost inclined, stranger as I was, to go up and speak 
to them), nor did I grudge them for an instant the 
enjoyment of the delightful place ; and yet somehow 
or other, for the romance of the thing, I would as soon 
have gone away with a different impression than that 
English people could come over for the day from 
Quimper, in their own private carriages, for such a 
matter-of-fact purpose as to eat and drink at this the 
Ultima Thule of the classic Breton shore. As for the 
fifteen or twenty peasants who were sitting on the top 
of the mound, it was impossible to imagine what could 
have brought them to the place, unless it was that 
they had tracked the carriages to the spot, and were 
waiting to see what they could eventually pick up, 

After enjoying the beauty of the rocks for some 
little time, I returned to the other side of the mound 
where the horse was standing, and then made my way 
back over the sandy waste. The old church of Penmarch 
appearing so close, I thought, instead of retracing the 
route by which I had come, I would take a short cut, 
and ride directly across the plain ; but having been 
warned it was impossible, I was repaid for my temerity 
by finding myself speedily in the middle of a marsh. 
It took me half an hour to regain anything like a 
road, and it was a quarter to five when I once more 
reached the farmer's house at Penmarch. 

On my asking him what had become of the truant 
boy, he pretended to know nothing at all about him ; 
and wondering, I suppose, how ever the horse was to 
find his way home again since the urchin wouldn't 
come, he was beginning to demur about my taking 
him on at all to Pont l'Abbe according to the terms of 
our bargain, when I told him plainly that in that case 



308 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



I couldn't give him what he asked, since I had been 
compelled to hire an additional guide. He said that 
was none of his business ; but when I suggested that 
the magistrate might perhaps settle the difference, he 
was only too glad to compromise the matter by pro- 
posing that I should give him a couple of francs, and 
allow the horse quietly to go back to the stable. 
There was nothing for it, therefore, but to proceed to 
Pont TAbbe on foot, and by dint of very hard walking 
I accomplished the nine miles in a couple of hours or 
thereabouts. 

On my way I met the people returning from the 
fair in crowds. Many unhappily were still encumbered 
with their pigs, but most of them were bearing some 
reminiscence of the day. The favourite purchases 
seemed to have been reaping-hooks and sieves. One 
man had a caldron on the top of his head, and another 
had a grave-cross in a cart. Occasionally a husband 
and wife might have been seen riding together en 
croupe, but in many cases it was the lord and master 
who was in the saddle, and the better half obediently 
in attendance by his side on foot. Not a few likewise 
had lingered too long in the public-houses, and one 
poor woman had the greatest difficulty in conducting 
her refractory spouse, who was shouting and dancing 
like a veritable fool in the middle of the road, much to 
her disgust and shame : — 

" And see ! the" ponderous sheepskins o'er them "hung, 
Homeward the weary bullocks plod along." 

The sight indeed was as lively as the fair itself. 

The following morning I had intended walking over 
to Loctudy, a distance of about a league, where there 
is said to be a fine old Romanesque church ; but the 
rain came down so incessantly, and was driving so 



A Fishermen' f s Feast. 309 



violently with the wind, that it prevented my wandering 
far. My utmost was to stroll along the banks of the 
river in the intervals between the showers, and where 
there happened to be some seamen preparing to make 
soup from a quantity of small fish having the appear- 
ance of whiting, and which, having decapitated, they 
began to cleanse. 

They had lighted a fire on the ground, and had 
placed a caldron over it for the reception of the some- 
what meagre mess. One of them was mending his 
nets at a little distance off. He told me he had been 
caught in the gale the previous night, and all but lost. 
Fortunately they reached the Isle of Tudy in safety, 
where, he said, a most happy pipe of congratulation had 
been smoked. From all accounts theirs must be a hard 
life. Another of the same craft subsequently told me 
that the navigation of the seas around this ccast, espe- 
cially that near the Pointe du Paz, is extremely danger- 
ous, and that if they had not the little creek of St. 
Guenole to put into, the fishermen in the neighbour- 
hood of Penmarch would never have the slightest 
chance. 

Going into the market of Pont TAbbe, I remarked to 
a woman of whom I bought some fruit that it must be 
a convenient little town to live in, on account of every- 
thing being so cheap. " Cheap ! " she exclaimed with 
astonishment ; " why, on the contrary, everything is ex- 
tremely dear." Meat was now fivepence a pound, and 
she remembered it considerably lower in former years. 
The price of pork for this country was certainly some- 
what high ; it was sevenpence halfpenny a pound. 
Eggs were fourpence a dozen, but she could recollect 
once upon a time when they were three halfpence. This 
clearly shows the tendency of provisions in Brittany, 



3 io The Pardon of Gtiingamp. 

as in England, especially meat, to be rising gradually 
above the easy reach of the labouring class. Small 
black cherries of excellent flavour were selling at a 
penny, though four or five years ago they were only a 
farthing a pound. The quantity sold, however, is still 
enormous, and every one eats them. They generally 
come from the grounds of some large landed proprietor : 
her receipts for these alone had occasionally been as 
much as thirty-five francs a day. 

Wishing to ascertain whether the curious old customs 
formerly observed on the occasion of weddings, and 
which are spoken of as still existing by all the writers 
on Brittany, were yet actually in use, I took the oppor- 
tunity of opening the subject to the landlady of the 
hotel. I asked her whether the village tailor continued 
to be the recognised matchmaker in the country dis- 
tricts, just as is represented in ancient times. She told 
me yes, though of course not now in the immediate 
vicinity of towns. Her own husband being a member 
of that favoured profession, I inquired if he himself 
were also given to matchmaking like the rest. Upon 
this she gave a laugh of astonishment and tossed up her 
head as though she meant to say, " Do you think I'd 
allow my man to do such a thing as that ?" 

All the following information, which may safely be 
relied upon as among the customs still observed in re- 
moter districts, I obtained from a friend of hers who 
was on a visit to the house. She had formerly kept a 
cabaret either in Quimper or the neighbourhood, and 
as she spoke from her own experience, she was likely, 
if any one, to be properly informed. 

The title applied to the functionary in question is 
that of bazvalan, from baz, a switch, and valan, broom ; 
because the matchmaker, when bent on business, was 



Wedding Customs. 3 1 1 



accustomed to carry in his hands to the house of the 
young girl a branch of the above shrub in flower, this 
being emblematic both of love and union. The duty 
of the bazvalan (he being usually the village tailor), 
when he has been applied to by any young man who 
begins to sigh both for love and union, is to find out 
forthwith the lady's pleasure, forgetful neither to ascer- 
tain her means, nor yet to sound the praises of his 
client in her ear. If it is discovered that the pair are 
suitable to one another, the father of the swain then 
goes to the father of the young girl, and says to him, 
" Fll give your daughter so much a year for a certain 
number of years ;" though, after the expiration of that 
period, it is restored to him again either by her parents 
or her husband. 

Next, on a certain day they proceed to the cabaret 
to arrange preliminaries. The company are all seated 
round the table, the lover being separated from his in- 
tended bride, and whenever he casts a tender glance 
towards her, and she happens to catch his eye, she at 
once withdraws it and hangs down her head. My in- 
formant in one instance had known a projected mar- 
riage broken off because the father of the girl refused 
to give two francs a year for the purchase of a pair of 
sabots, or wooden shoes, for the use of the young man. 
On the day of the wedding the bazvalan approaches 
with some bread and butter and a bottle of wine, and 
after the ceremony he gives to drink both to the 
bridegroom and to the priest. The priest blesses the 
bread and cuts it up into portions, eating some first 
himself, and then handing it all round. Emerging 
from the church, they follow the fiddler and go off to 
dance, and when the dancing is ended they sit down to 
dinner. The newly-married pair then live separate for 



312 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

three days, after which the bride takes a press or ward- 
robe to the house of her husband amid great rejoicings, 
The song of the press runs as follows : — 

LA PETE DE L'AEMOIEE, 

"With manly honour, and with purpose true, 
Lady, I come to make my court to you. 

To me ? Ah, whisper not to me of love ! 

I am affianced — but to One above : 

This year I mourn ; the cloister me awaits. 

The cloister never shall unbar its gates, 
That you this vow capricious should fulfil ; 
My home shall be your cloister if you will : 
Sweet herbs and roses are for gardens made, 

Yes, but the yew tree for the churchyard shade : 
Mine is the Lord of this wide world below. 

Come, come, you'll take this silver ring, I trow ; 
Your ready finger for the gift prepare, 
Else I myself will have to place it there. 

No ring for me shall glad betrothals make. 

Would you then, lady, this too warm heart break ? 

Unhappy youth ! thyself shall bear the cost 
Of time thus wasted, precious moments lost ; 
Heed me no more ; I'll never cease to pray, 
"We may find mercy in the judgment-day. 

On the day of a birth the father of the child goes 
with the sponsor to the nearest public-house or village, 
and enjoys a grand collation, the latter standing treat ; 
and eight days after this all the friends of the family 
proceed to congratulate the happy mother and to make 
a " grand fricot" at her own house. The " grand fricot" 
corresponds with what in England would be termed, 
more familiarly than elegantly, a " regular blow out 
though each one brings with him his own provisions, 



The Matchmaker. 



3*3 



including even the cider and the wine. All these 
customs are now gradually dying out, and those which 
still exist have lost much of the exciting pomp and 
circumstance which once attended them. "When I 
made inquiries about other forms and ceremonies, men- 
tioned as though extant by various Breton writers, the 
people of the hotel knew nothing at all about them, so 
that, at least in this neighbourhood, if not universally, 
they must have fallen into disuse. It may be men- 
tioned, however, that these curious customs, though 
essentially the same throughout the province, had their 
different modifications in the different departments, 
whilst the bazvalan and his office held alike in all. 

Souvestre says that the tailor who is hump-backed, 
and has red hair, with a squint in the eye, may be taken 
as the type and representative of his class. In the pre- 
sence of young girls he is boastful and jocose. He has 
no fixed habitation, and seldom marries. Villemarque 
says, in talking of his office, that when he enters a 
house in his capacity of matchmaker, if the logs happen 
to be standing upright in the chimney, or if the mis- 
tress of the cottage, taking up a pancake, slowly comes 
near the fire, holding it with the tips of her fingers 
whilst her back is turned upon him, the augury is un- 
favourable, he must return home. It is a bad sign 
likewise if he meets on the way a magpie or a raven ; 
but if, as he comes along, he hears a ringdove cooing in 
the copse ; or if, as he stands at the threshold, before he 
has finished speaking, the people of the house give him 
a joyful welcome ; if they all of them vie in doing 
him honour, or if they hasten to cover the table with 
the very best white cloth, everything, he may be sure, 
will then go well. 

These last, however (which remind us of the mission 



314 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

of Abraham's servant in the old Chaldean days), can 
scarcely be called auguries in the same sense as the 
flight of the magpie and the raven, whose presencQ 
seems to have beeu looked upon as ominous of evil from 
the earliest times. " The left hand raven oft," as far 
back as the days of Virgil, when probably even then it 
was an old tradition, " distinctly boded with a prescient 
croak ;" whilst the "laevus picus" of Horace was more 
probably the magpie than any other bird. 

The " Chants des Noces," or marriage songs, are 
numerous. The principal amongst them would seem 
to be that in which, on the day of the nuptials, a species 
of rhyming retort is carried on between the bazvalan 
and the breutaer, a man who replies to the railleries of 
the tailor in behalf of the family of the bride. It 
seems, in fact, a species of Amoebaean Eclogue, which 
being ended, the father of the young woman hands his 
son-in-law a girth, which the latter passes for a mo- 
ment round the waistband of his new-made wife. Whilst 
doing this the breutaer sings " The Song of the Grirdle," 
and then the bazvalan invokes for the bride the highest 
blessings, not only of the Supreme Being, but also of 
the Virgin and of the angels, and of all the deceased 
ancestors of the family. In this last custom there 
surely must have been conserved something of the spirit 
of the old tradition embodied in the prevalent idea — 

" Carmine Di superi placantur, carmine manes/' 

Besides these, there is the song called " Le J our des 
Pauvres," for the day following the nuptials, when the 
poor of the district come to feast upon the remnants of 
the good cheer, and to wish the happy couple every 
blessing from above ; as many children as there are 
crickets under the hearth ; as many years of life as 



La Ceinture. 



3*5 



were accorded to the patriarchs ; and finally an admis- 
sion into paradise after death. In addition to this 
there is the song previously given, sung on the occasion 
of the walnut-wood press being conveyed, with great 
pomp and ceremony, from the residence of the bride's 
father to her newly-adopted home. 



LA CEINTUEE. 



In a rich meadow, of a joyous mien, 

A nut-brown foal and beautiful I've seen, 

Who thought of nothing but to browse and drink, 
Hour by hour, at the river's brink : 

Soon her quick eye descried, advancing near, 
On the high road, a handsome cavalier. 

Striking for stature, and so trimly gay, 

Was the young knight who canter' d by that way ; 

Glorious in silver and in gold brocade : 
Him to admire, the wondering filly stayed ; 

Bent her long neck, and liked him none the less, 
Eor the sweet welcome of his soft caress, 

Gentle, so gentle, till by slow degree, 

His red lips press'd her : oh, how pleased was she I 

Then the light rein, and then the girth he gave 
Her, from henceforth his not unwilling slave. 



CHAPTER XXII. 




A Pleasant Sight. — Concarneau. — Celtic Cemetery. — Quimperle. — The 
Forest. — Chateau St. Maurice, — Wood- cutters. — Miracles. — De- 
cline of Old Customs. — Monsieur Flammik : Brizeux's Lament. — 
An Onroibus. — L' Orient. — Port Louis. — Benediction of the Sar- 
dine Fishery. — The Poet's Dirge. 

j|T the hotel at Pont l'Abbe, mentioned in the 
last chapter (the best in the place), I was an 
accidental witness of a sight which tends very 
forcibly to confirm the fact that " sale comme un 
Breton " is a proverb by no means misapplied. The 
servant was a young girl about twenty years of age, 
most respectably attired in the national costume, and 
for neatness and cleanliness being in appearance unex- 
ceptionable, would have satisfied in this respect the 
most fastidious. Unluckily, however, whilst conversing 
with the landlady and her friend (and they were giving 
me an account of the old wedding customs of their 
native country), I suddenly saw the girl in question, 
who not only assisted in the cooking department, but 
was likewise waiter in the public room, join her two 
hands together under her face, and spitting down 
fiercely into the palms, deliberately go through the 
formality of rubbing, it cannot be said cleaning them 
in this loathsome fashion, though no end of soap and 
water was attainable in the very same room, within 
reasonable distance of a few feet. 

The most indigent wayfarer might have been ex- 
cused his horror at a sight so revolting. It did not, 



Concarneau. 



317 



however, by any means seem to shock the landlady, 
who possibly at times may have gone through the 
like ceremony herself. Some travellers in Brittany, in 
the autumn of the previous year, relate how they saw a 
servant girl at one of the best hotels in Rennes 
cleaning out a decanter with manure. A veil, how- 
ever, may be drawn over the subject, which is one 
neither for poetry nor romance. 

The day after my return to Quimper I left it again 
for Concarneau, a curious little fortified place on a 
low rock or tongue of land, surrounded partially by 
the sea. Towards the latter part of the route we 
passed a long series of uncultivated fields overrun by 
furze, which, as one of the passengers in the diligence, 
who was an inhabitant of the neighbourhood, re- 
marked, were left in this condition because their 
owners were too lazy to do any work. The town, 
which is a colony of fishermen, has a somewhat pic- 
turesque appearance on approaching it at high water, 
for it is surrounded by lofty walls, rising up directly 
on three sides from an arm of the sea which runs up 
and washes it. The hotel is situated on an open space 
without, in the midst of a long row of houses, in front 
of which are one or two lines of not very thriving 
trees. It is most clean and comfortable, and though 
not very large, as nice as any in Brittany ; and it has 
all the appearance of having been a pleasant, old- 
fashioned little mansion in former days. 

At the back of the hotel, overlooking the sea, is a 
diminutive chapel frequented by sailors, a Notre Dame 
de bon Secours ; and near it as mall lighthouse. If 
Concarneau, with its suburb, were only thoroughly 
drained, it might possibly in the summer be an agree- 
able place ; but oh ! the odours and the sights of which 



3i8 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



in many parts one soon becomes sensible ! Of these, 
however, we may not speak. 

A day and a half was quite long enough to see it. 
A league from the town, on the road to Quimperle, you 
pass an extensive Celtic cemetery, in the midst of 
which is an enormous rocking-stone. The surface of 
this cemetery, the most curious and extensive in Finis- 
tere, is covered with vast granite blocks, which are scat- 
tered about without order on each side of the road, and 
continue, though now and then with some considerable 
interruptions, for a distance of several miles. Each of 
these blocks marks a place of sepulture. Many of them 
are partially rounded off, and, though considerably 
larger, have something the shape of an ordinary turf- 
made grave in a modern churchyard. 

The name of the village close to which lies this 
interesting assemblage of tombs is in Celtic Trecunc'h, 
which signifies, the valley of bemoaning or of grief. 

The little town of Pontaven, through which we 
subsequently pass, contains nothing remarkable. The 
country beyond is, generally speaking, well wooded until 
you arrive at Quimperle, a town of six thousand inhabit- 
ants, which is beyond all dispute striking, on account 
of the unusual beauty of its situation. It seems literally 
to be built in the midst of woods and orchards. Many 
of its houses are old and quaint, but there is a paucity 
of good shops, which gives a certain air of poverty to 
the place. Lying low in a valley, many of its paved 
ascents are steep, for a portion of the town is continued 
up the side of one of the overlooking hills. 

Quimperle, however, without possessing any ancient 
buildings of extraordinary beauty, has all the appear- 
ance of a city which has once had its day ; and in one 
of its streets containing the half-ruined mansions of 



Quimperie. 



319 



the higher class of inhabitants, and in which are the 
last remains of what has been apparently, before the 
Revolution, a handsome Gothic church, the grass is 
growing thick beneath the feet. As for the ecclesias- 
tical monuments of the town, there are now only two. 
Of these the round church will, perhaps, be interesting 
to those who admire the architecture which the French 
call primitive Roman, but not particularly so to those 
for whom Gothic is the chief attraction. With its 
long narrow windows, and its lofty, gallery-like choir, 
which is reached by a flight of steps, it is at any rate 
curious and unusual, though the whole of it is in sad 
repair. The other church, at the summit of the town, 
has a rather fine tower, and two very handsome entrance 
porches ; but being in a state of mutilation, it is now 
difficult to pass any judgment on what was once, 
though a small, a well-designed edifice. It is built 
into with houses east and west. 

Strolling about in the evening, I saw in the valley 
opposite, on the other side of the river, an assemblage 
of several hundred peasants dancing to the sound of 
the bagpipe, for the national dances are here performed 
better than in any other locality ; and this is the birth- 
place of Mathurin, the blind musician. Amongst the 
attractions of Quimperie, not least will be found the 
forest of Carnoet, one of the most considerable in 
Brittany, in which a day may very well be spent. It 
begins in less than a mile outside the town ; in fact, 
owing to a straggling portion, it seems almost to open 
into it at once. This forest, like so many others in 
Brittany, still harbours a few stray wolves, which, 
however, are seldom seen but in the winter, when, if 
the season be rigorous, they occasionally come out in 
the evening and howl upon the public road. 



320 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



The guide whom I had engaged to conduct me to 
the ruins of a once interesting chateau was a poor 
ignorant creature who obtained her living by collecting 
wood and making it into faggots and brooms ; and she 
told me that some time since she had been afflicted 
with the " douleurs," and had remained in the hospital 
for three years and a half. Despairing of a cure by 
human means, she then made her vows and set out on 
a pilgrimage to Auray, where she deposited three 
francs in the coffers of the church dedicated to St. 
Anne. Fulfilling faithfully all the injunctions re- 
quired by pilgrims, in six months she was restored to 
health. She fully confirmed the opinion of the hostess 
of the cafe at Brest, who had assured me that St. Anne 
worked endless miracles, and was a most popular saint. 
On our return, we passed a number of women at the 
edge of the forest, seated on the ground with bundles 
of wood by their side, and attired in the gloomy costume 
of Morbihan (for we are now not far from the above 
department). They were most of them smoking short 
clay pipes. 

On a subsequent occasion I walked nearly six miles, 
four of which were through the densest of the forest, 
to the Chateau de St. Maurice, a country house almost 
in a state of dilapidation, built on the site of a very 
ancient monastery, a portion of the vaulted cloister of 
which still remains, together with a fragment of a side 
aisle which serves as a chapel, and in which mass is 
occasionally performed. Here the owner of the estate 
showed me a marble slab restiug on low pillars with an 
inscription in Hebrew, " The Lord gave, and the Lord 
hath taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord/' 
It was evidently a Jewish tomb, and had a name en- 
graved upon it, but its history was unknown — a curious 



Forest of Carnoei. 



321 



circumstance, there having been (except towards the 
close of the last century at Nantes) no Jews in Brittany. 
In the sacristy was the tomb of the Duchess Constance, 
sister of Duke Conan IT., in whose reign the monastery 
was built. I was likewise shown an effigy of the 
Saviour in solid copper, of very great weight, taken 
from a crucifix, for which the lady of the house assured 
me M. de Montalembert had offered her 3,000 francs, 
there being only two others similar to it in existence 
— one at Rome, and the other at Alencon. 

The river which runs into the sea as the united re- 
presentative of the Kemper and the Elle (whence the 
name Quimperle) takes its course through the forest, 
and just in front of the chateau makes an abrupt sweep, 
which gives it at high water the appearance of a beau- 
tiful lake with rocky banks, relieved by a rising amphi- 
theatre of wood — a piece of magnificent scenery which 
is not met with every day. The prospect from the 
drawing-room window of that sheet of water was truly 
charming. 

Every here and there throughout the forest you come 
upon the rude cabin of some wandering wood- cutter, 
made of the boughs of trees, and furnished perhaps with 
a lis clos, or cupboard bed, a chest of drawers, and two 
or three stools or chairs. Notwithstanding the poverty 
of its inmates, who make wooden shoes to sell in town 
at a most unremunerative rate, the interior of the one I 
entered was neat and tidy. A large hole in the root 
which served as chimney, and which likewise unfortu- 
nately let in the rain, would have made it a most com- 
fortless abode in the winter months, besides which 
every fire which was lighted filled the hut with smoke. 
Hanging at the side of the bed was a little benitier 
for holy water, and several rude pictures of religious 

Y 



322 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



subjects and sentences from Scripture were distributed 
around. An infant was lying in a very primitive cradle 
while the mother was preparing supper, and one or two 
other children were running about the place. They all, 
however, seemed cheerful and contented, a proof of how 
little man's happiness depends on fortune, when health, 
that chief of the gifts of Providence, is granted. 

Every year in the summer-time there is held in this 
forest a curious fair called the Pardon des Oiseaux, at 
which small singing-birds are bought and sold. There 
appears to be no religious ceremony in connection with 
it, it being simply a pleasurable fete. The people, as a 
rule, are devotees in this neighbourhood. An inha- 
bitant of the town told me of a certain Notre Dame de 
Lorette, to whom she had vowed her infant, a child of 
nine months old, when apparently dying of congestion 
of the brain, and given over by the doctor as a hopeless 
case. No sooner had she made her vow than the child 
recovered, and now every year she makes a pilgrimage 
to her shrine. The same person spoke to me likewise 
of another celebrated chapel in the neighbourhood, de- 
dicated equally to a local Notre Dame. A woman living 
not far from the spot had a daughter eleven years of 
age who was impotent in her feet. The mother carried 
her to the chapel of the saint on the day of the Pardon, 
and vowed her henceforward to Our Lady of Leriolle. 
No sooner had she done so, added my informant, than 
she uttered piercing screams ; and rising to her feet, she 
walked forthwith, and was able to join in the procession 
with the rest. 

Though the scenery in the neighbourhood presents a 
happy combination of wood, water, hill, and rock, two 
tall, ominous-looking poles, with very small pennants 
flying at the top, threaten cruelly to mar the Arcadian 



Decline of Old Customs. 



323 



aspect of tlie district in one of its most attractive parts ; 
for the fact is Quimperle is about to be brought under 
the inexorable iron rule. When the railway through 
Brittany is completed, the peasants will no doubt dance 
and sing as heartily as heretofore, though possibly these 
national movements will in time be considered vulgar, 
and will give way, like their manners and their exterior, 
to the more fashionable Parisian ; for to a certainty it 
must gradually have a sure and determined effect upon 
many of the long pre-established ideas of the inha- 
bitants of the province. One cannot but think that a 
century from hence the monster pilgrimages of the 
present day will have almost fallen into disuse, and that 
the gorgeous Pardons, merging into ordinary fairs, will 
have been divested of much of their accustomed pomp. 
Why, if at sight of a blustering steam-engine romance 
looks shy, it will be strange if superstition does not 
stagger at its approach. And oh ! most enthusiastic 
traveller, what will there then be in Brittany to attract, 
when the people have abjured their creeds, their cus- 
toms, and their national costumes ? 



"BON JOTJB, MONSIEUR FLAMMIK." 

Good morning, Mister Flammik ! Who 's your friend ? 

A peasant surely, of his garb in spite. 

Doesn't his town dress an air distinguish'd lend ! 

That man a citizen ! Well, no, not quite. 

Close cropp'd, oh, how his ancestors would stare ! 

To the sheep-shearers he has sold his hair. 

Much good from school has he contrived to wrench, 

Stifling his Breton but to murder French. 

Hear him on Sundays at the village inn 

Daring the devil, as he mocks at sin. 

Out in this jargon comes his heavy fun ; 

See, saint and Satan are to him as one. 



324 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



A pretty miniature ! I'll safe avow, 
His good old father would not know him now. 
Spare not : them thus degenerate deride 
Who doff the lamb-skin for the lion's hide. 

Brizeux, a Breton poet, when contemplating the 
change which had already overtaken his native pro- 
vince, composed, only a few days before his death, some 
impassioned stanzas, in which he fervently prays that 
his countrymen who are born warriors or poets, seamen 
or shepherds, may not be brought beneath the yoke of 
sordid interests, and transformed into a trading people ; 
and he entreats Nature, his cherishing mother, that the 
smoke of the factory may not pollute her fields, and 
that her children still, as heretofore, may adore their 
parent, and the sylph of the woods and the fairy of the 
household hearth remain. 

The journey between Quimperle and 1/ Orient was at 
this period made, not in a diligence, but in a common- 
place omnibus. There is something exceedingly anti- 
Armorican in the name. Still it was no more than in 
keeping with the town from which it emanated; for 
I/Orient, without being nearly as interesting, is even 
more French than Brest itself. There must have been 
terrible competition in the means of transit between the 
two places, for whilst the distance is fifteen miles, the 
fare was only a franc ; though certainly, to make up for 
this, the director, with an almost savage exultation, laid 
heavy dues upon every single item of baggage on our 
arrival at L' Orient. 

We pass out of Finistere into Morbihan about half- 
way, and a short distance beyond the stone of separa- 
tion we had a most vexatious stoppage at an inn, in 
front of which were standing several of the public 
vehicles in the same service. We were here upwards of 



Town of & Orient. 



325 



half an hour, as two of our commercial travellers, a 
class who are the lords paramount at hotels in Brittany, 
took a fancy to treating the driver to something to drink. 

We should inevitably have remained the entire hour, 
had I not eventually asked them whether they had 
taken up their quarters for the night. Amongst the 
passengers who had alighted from the vehicles bound 
in the opposite direction was an unusually beautiful 
girl of about twenty years of age, to whom one of the 
forward "commercials" went up and introduced him- 
self. Had his overtures partaken less of the nature of 
his trade they might possibly have been well received, 
but the man's impudence and assurance were beyond 
all sufferance ; and with a toss of the head and a sar- 
castic smile, and a dignity well corresponding with her 
high bearing and almost aristocratic appearance, the 
girl firmly replied, "Sir, I am well acquainted with the 
manners of the Parisians,' ' and then hurrying to her 
vehicle, she left him to himself. 

We enter L' Orient by a fine avenue of trees. Being 
walled and fortified, it has at first sight somewhat the 
appearance of Brest as you come into it at the gates. 
In the uncertain light the town did not look amiss, for 
the large public square was animated, and soldiers and 
sailors were walking everywhere about. The hotel 
likewise, close to which we had drawn up, and where, 
therefore, it seemed expedient to tarry, was one of the 
ancient type, with galleries and balconies running round 
the inner court. By daylight, however, the place 
proves to be altogether a modern one, with spacious 
streets laid out at right angles, and adorned with fault- 
less shops. The houses in general present a plastered 
front, and there are not half-a-dozen ancient buildings 
in the whole town. One of the characteristic features 



326 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



which strikes a stranger on entering this department is 
the frequency of occurrence of the letter % in the names 
of places and individuals. Thus in the former we find 
such words as Muzillac, Priziac, Limerzel, Hezo, Arzal ; 
and in the latter, for example, Mezanzou, Jezequel, 
Bozellec. 

L'Orient, however, with all its newness, has a capital 
market, which is unusually well supplied. Lobsters 
and crawfish were there in abundance. Asking the 
price of these out of curiosity, I was passing slowly on 
when the woman to whom I had addressed myself called 
out despairingly after me, " Well, what will you give 
for it ? " Making no reply, she again shouted out, 
" Viens done parler, monsieur which being construed, 
meant to say, " Come then and bargain, my good sir ! " 

At the extremity of the inlet on which 1/ Orient is 
situated stands the little fortified town of Port Louis. 
You cross over to it in a steamer, which occupies about 
twenty minutes in its passage. It is a dismal little 
place. It was here, in the citadel attached to it, that the 
present Emperor was confined after one of his unsuc- 
cessful revolutionary attempts. Though now so gloomy, 
it may perhaps have been once more pleasant and lively, 
for Madame de Sevigne, writing to her daughter in 
1689, calls it a very beautiful spot, and mentions, when 
there, having paid a visit to "a place called L'Orient," 
where they receive the merchandise coming from the 
East. There was at that period no other town in the 
inlet beside Port Louis ; and L' Orient owed not only its 
existence, but even its name, to its commercial inter- 
course with the East. 

The Oriental commerce has long since ceased, though 
opposite the citadel of Port Louis still stands the chapel 
dedicated to Notre Dame de l'Armor, in passing whiqh 



Benediction of Fishery. 



327 



every bark, be it merchantman or man-of-war, alike 
on entering or leaving the roads, fires as of old a 
salute to that propitious Lady under whose patronage 
and protection the inhabitants of L'Orient live. Not 
far from this chapel is celebrated annually an imposing 
fete for the benediction of the sardine fishery, on which 
occasion both clergy and people assemble in the Church 
of the Virgin, and accompanied by crosses and banners, 
march down in procession to the sea- shore, where they 
embark in fishing-boats, and are speedily joined by a 
numerous fleet of other craft both from L'Orient and 
Port Louis. About seven or eight miles out at sea lies 
the Isle of Grroix, in the direction of which is now seen 
advancing another, though less numerous fleet, bearing 
equally a goodly number of priests and people, with 
banners and crosses, and other symbols of their faith. 

On the junction of the fleets the air is in a moment 
rent with shouts of joy, and the blessing of Heaven is 
then solemnly invoked by one of the attendant priests 
on the efforts of the coming time ; after which the pro- 
tection of her whom they deem the Star of the Sea and 
the Refuge of the mariner, is implored for those brave 
and hardy men who, like the disciples of her Divine Son, 
followed the same humble call of life* The officiating 
priest, now turning himself north and south, and east 
and west, sprinkles consecrated water upon the teem- 
ing waves, and whilst with slow and solemn utterance 
the final benediction is pronounced, all heads bend re- 
verently low, and the Te Deum bursts from thousands 
upon thousands of grateful and still hopeful tongues. 
None there but recognise in the pious strain the echo of 
that voice which of yore, upon the bosom of Genesareth, 
exhorted one to launch out into the deep, and let down 
his net into the water for a draught. 



The Pardon of Giiingamp. 



THE POET'S DIEGE. 



Beauties of a distant age, 

And its might and glory, 
War on all things since they wage, 

Live but now in story : 
Men and men's creation pass ; 

Time delights to sever, 
What was sacred once, alas ! 

Now no more for ever. 

Youth's own idols manhood sees 

Swift to gain are turning ; 
Oh the graceless task ! for these 

Our reverence unlearning. 
Yain I mourn, for where shall I, 

While the years are gaining 
Conquest fast, for' refuge fly 

Erom the change profaning 

Eever'd all, in haste for greed : 

Sacrilegious hire ! 
Nought they leave the soul to eed 

With poetic fire. 
See a generation taught 

Eules expedient, giving 
Nature up to death ; now nought, 

Nought is worth the living. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 



Prince Louis Napoleon. — Pontivy. — The De Kohans. — The Courier.— 
Moncontour, — A Breton Inn. — Scenery. — Standard of Virtue. — 
Lamballe. — Plancoet. — Country Life in Olden Times. — An Acute 
Driver. — A British Exile. — St. Malo. — Fleeting Summer. 

HAPPENED by chance, as I was making 
inquiries for a boat on the quays at 1/ Orient, 
to fall in with a sailor who had been in the 
ship of war which conveyed the Emperor of the French 
as a prisoner from Port Louis to the United States. 
The vessel touched at Bio, in the Brazils (from which 
it must be concluded that the Government was in no 
hurry to set him free), and whenever he landed it was 
under an invariable escort of eight men. I asked what 
he did with himself when he went ashore, to which 
the sailor replied that he was always taking plans of 
the fortifications of the place. When he finally left 
them at New York, he made a present to the crew (there 
were in all six hundred) of three-quarters of a litre of 
wine apiece, and bade them good-bye with these pro- 
phetic words : " Mind, my children, if ever you require 
me, that you send and fetch me ; take my word for it, 
however, I'll be in France before you." And so indeed 
he was, for the vessel making a cruise on foreign ser- 
vice, it turned out eventually that he reached home 
first. When he visited L' Orient two or three years 
ago, he went over to the citadel of Port Louis to 
inspect the scene of his captivity, and made handsome 




330 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



distributions of money, or else bestowed situations on 
all who bad attended him when there. 

The stage between 1/ Orient and Pontivy, a distance 
of some forty miles, is for a considerable portion of the 
way past fertile valleys overlooked by hills, which for 
Brittany may be considered somewhat lofty. The river 
likewise being frequently crossed, it is in summer-time 
an attractive route, and one of the most interesting 
portions of the gloomy department of the Morbihan. 
The drive by diligence occupies nearly six hours. The 
towns you pass are Hennebont and Baud, containing 
each about five thousand inhabitants. The former has a 
large church with a very fine steeple. The latter is cele- 
brated for its statue, the Venus of Quinipily. Pontivy 
is a small town on the river Blavet, and has a population 
of about eight thousand. There is nothing remarkable 
in any way about it, except perhaps the new quarter 
constructed by the first Napoleon, and which certainly is 
conspicuous for its hideousness. Wishing to make this 
place the centre of Brittany, he here built extensive 
cavalry barracks, which jar painfully with the older 
portions of the town ; and to crown all, he robbed it of 
its own pretty rural name, and called it Napoleonville, 
as it now appears on the maps and in all official writing, 
though the people still cling to its old familiar and 
poetic appellation. 

Immediately on the outskirts is the ancient castle of 
the Dukes de Rohan. It is a most picturesque pile, 
surrounded by a moat, and the ivy is clinging to its 
mouldering walls. Two circular towers with pointed 
roofs still carry themselves proudly up in front. There 
were two also in the rear, but they are now in ruins. 
The building is at the present time used as a convent. 
Besides this, there is only one other interesting relic in 



A Brutal Driver. 



331 



Pontivy. It stands at the corner of one of the principal 
streets, and they tell you it was erected likewise by 
the De Rohans, and the first house ever constructed in 
the town. 

The courier for Moncontour leaves Pontivy at ten 
o'clock at night. The vehicle in this instance was a 
most commodious and luxurious one, with accommoda- 
tion for four, and was more like a private carriage. 
The stage to Loudeac is a long one, and though the 
horse was big and stout, he began to grow tired before 
we had finished it. Several times he came to a stand- 
still, and then the driver would begin to swear and 
lash his sides. Not unfrequently, also, he had to jump 
off his seat and lead him on a little way. Then again 
he mounted, and no sooner had the animal begun to 
move tolerably fast than he would begin, in mere wan- 
tonness, to belabour him, to pay him off for old scores, 
This only had the effect of making him yet again come 
to a standstill, when the fellow would shout out hegh ! 
— hegh ! — hegh ! at stated intervals, to induce him to 
move on, until I thought he would have shouted himself 
hoarse. His efforts were so ludicrous, that, notwithstand- 
ing his cruelty, I was convulsed with laughter. When 
at last we came to Loudeac he revenged himself most 
savagely on the poor brute by kicking him in the belly 
and striking him on the head with his fists ; but here 
it was impossible to stand it any longer, and I was 
obliged to shout out to him to desist. At about half-past 
two we came to Moncontour, and drew up at a little inn. 

The gargon having opened the door, a passenger 
whom we had taken up about half an hour previously 
called out to the servant to come down, and she forth- 
with made her descent in her clothes from a lofty 
Breton bed which was a fixture in the kitchen, and 



332 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



proceeded to light the fire and boil some water. The 
passenger, who had been to Algeria for six months the 
previous autumn, was in raptures about the capital, 
which he declared was almost as fine a city as Paris. 
When the wine and water had been discussed, the 
courier took his departure ; the Boots retired to some 
mysterious and unknown quarters ; the Bonne mounted 
on the table, and placing her foot on a stool which was 
upon it, climbed back again, full dressed, to bed, whilst 
I composed myself to sleep on chairs. I had previously 
asked her whether any one was in the bed below. The 
cook was. "And I wonder whether this noise has 
disturbed the cook?" " Oh no, she's accustomed to 
it," replied the girl, with a merry ringing laugh, as 
she scaled the heights to gain her lofty quarters. 

It was broad daylight when I awoke, and I took a 
survey of the not very tidy room. Though we had 
passed during the night out of the Breton- speaking 
region, we were still in Brittany, and this was a good 
specimen of the kitchen of a Breton inn. In the first 
place, the window in the door was broken, and let in 
the cold morning air. The two principal tables in the 
room were encumbered with all sorts of articles ; a 
sack of flour, a hand basket, a carriage cushion, a shawl, 
a bridle, a candlestick eighteen inches high, a huge 
package almost as large as a Druidical monument, 
together with numberless articles, and utensils of every 
sort. On the uneven clay floor was a basket of peas, 
and another of onions, and my luggage a little way 
off; whilst on a shelf were lying a sieve and a loaf of 
bread. Then, suspended on a hook was a scraggy 
neck of mutton, and a basket containing about three 
dozen eggs. Some pegs for door keys, with thirteen 
numbers, proclaimed the capacity of the house. 



Moncontour. 



333 



In the next room, which proved to be a stable, was 
a horse snorting violently, and on the other side, which 
was a coach-house, two or three noisy cocks were waking 
up the day. I afterwards perceived in the latter place 
a round basket, in which were tied down all ready for 
market, a live cock and hen which were struggling to 
get out, and a duck between them to keep them in 
good order. Slipping quietly out of the house, I went 
up to see what the town was like. It appeared to be 
an ancient and somewhat quaint little place, built on 
the summit of a hill, and commanding a good view. 
The church, which was already open, presents no 
striking architectural features, but contains some old 
and remarkably fine stained glass. The sights of Mon- 
contour being few, I next went to rouse the car-driver, 
whom the waiter at the inn had engaged for me imme- 
diately on my arrival, but who had retired to his house 
to compose himself to sleep. Seeing that I had come 
to call him, his wife felt disposed to pull him out of 
bed, otherwise he would have slept on an hour or two 
longer, so he promised to get his horses ready as soon 
as possible. 

Returning to the hotel, I found that the old cook 
and the lively little Bonne had descended from their 
Breton hiding-places. Inquiring what there was to 
see in the neighbourhood, I was told that there was a 
beautiful chateau on the summit of the opposite hill. 
I therefore without delay set out in quest of it, and to 
save time, though the ascent was lofty and steep, scaled 
it almost running, and found the chateau most pic- 
turesquely placed. It occupied a fine level space on 
the top, and was surrounded by beautiful avenues and 
pleasure-grounds, most attractively laid out. The view 
of the surrounding country from this platform partook 



334 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



a little of some of the Welsh scenery, though not on 
so grand a scale. A neighbouring hill capped with 
dense cloud tended somewhat to increase the simi- 
larity. 

On returning to the inn I found I need not have 
been in such a hurry, for the horses were not yet out 
of the stable. The voiture was much above the 
ordinary run of hired vehicles, and, indeed, was quite 
a luxurious carriage. I had engaged it to Lamballe, 
with a mental reserve, when there, of continuing it to 
St. Malo. I had heard at the hotel that the driver's 
wife was going to Lamballe to buy a cask of cider, and 
naturally thought her husband would have given her a 
lift, or at any rate asked me whether I would have any 
objection to the arrangement; but we had already gone 
some little distance when I discovered that unless I 
suggested it he was going to let her walk the whole 
twelve miles. On passing her, therefore, on the road, 
I made him stop and take her up. He subsequently, 
of his own accord, offered a place to another pedestrian 
on his way likewise to Lamballe. 

From a conversation I had with these people I found 
that the inhabitants of the surrounding districts, accord- 
ing to their own account, though wretchedly poor, must 
be living in a state of Arcadian simplicity. In the 
first place, they assured me that jealousy was a word 
with which they were practically unacquainted, and 
that honesty was a virtue which was quite universal. 
" To be sure," added the wife, who had been my in- 
formant, "they think it no more than lawful to demand 
a thousand francs whenever there is a chance of obtain- 
ing them, although but five hundred are their due." 
This being the standard of their virtue, I received it 
as a timely hint for the moment when I should come 



Town of Lamballe. 335 



to arrange with her husband about taking me to my 
journey's end. 

The latter informed me that for every horse a man 
keeps he is taxed three days' work upon the high-roads. 
He himself kept five horses, two vehicles, and a man 
servant, for which he owed twenty-four days, but he 
preferred paying the twenty-four francs. For every 
load of wood or hay which he buys and brings into 
Moncontour he is taxed a franc. 

Lamballe appeared to be all astir as we entered, for 
it was market-day, and the people were flocking in. 
Ordering breakfast at the hotel whilst the horses were 
being baited, I proceeded to explore the town. There 
is not much here, however, to strike a stranger. The 
principal ornament is the church, which has a most 
commanding situation on a rock at the higher end of 
the town. It has lately been restored, and for its 
superior style of architecture is amongst the finest 
ecclesiastical edifices of Brittany. The lofty east 
window is particularly graceful, but there is some 
slight defect in the symmetry of the choir, though not 
enough to spoil the effect. When viewed from the 
high-road the building seems to occupy more the posi- 
tion of a fortress than a church. Not far from it is a 
pleasant and shady public walk, laid out on the site of 
the ancient castle. The population of the town is 
between four and five thousand. 

After breakfast we set out for St. Malo, a distance 
by road of perhaps thirty- three miles, and arrived 
about half-past one at the small town, or rather 
village (for it only contains two thousand inhabitants), 
of Plancoet, where we again stopped some time to 
rest the horses. Meanwhile, I walked out some little 
way to see the Chateau of Argenteau, which was 



336 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



represented by several people as one of the sights of 
the neighbourhood. The style, however, of the house 
was modern, and, except the pleasure-grounds, there 
was not much to admire, and even these were nothing 
extraordinary. 

In the village of L'Abbaye, close to Plancoet, re- 
sided Chateaubriand's grandmother, and beneath her 
roof, as a child, he spent some of the happiest years of 
his eventful life. Madame de Bedee was a dignified 
lady, of courtly manners, stout, fair, and comely. Her 
sister, Mademoiselle de Boisteilleul, resided with her, 
and acted as her housekeeper. She was talkative and 
lively, and of a sarcastic turn of mind. In her youth 
she had formed an attachment to a Count de Tremignon, 
who had made her proposals of marriage, but had not 
stopped to ratify them, and the old lady, who had a 
talent for poetry, whilst seated at her embroidery, 
would compose and sing verses in memory of her early 
love. 

In those primitive times the dinner hour was eleven 
o'clock in the forenoon. The siesta following this 
meal being concluded, the ladies would adjourn to the 
terrace in the garden, where, under the shade of the 
trees overhanging the fountain, they would sit and 
knit. At four in the afternoon Madame de Bedee would 
be carried into her drawing-room, where the servant 
Pierre set out a card- table, and then Mademoiselle de 
Boisteilleul would rap against the wall with a pair of 
fire-tongs, in answer to which Were wont to enter three 
old maiden sisters, the Demoiselles Vildeneux, daughters 
of a decayed nobleman, who lived next door. When 
the game of quadrille was over, at eight o'clock, they 
adjourned to supper. One of Madame de Bedee' s sons, 
accompanied by his family, would occasionally join the 



An Actite Driver. 



337 



party, and amuse the ladies by anecdotes of the battle 
of Fontenoy, in which he had taken part, or by 
humorous stories to make them laugh. At nine 
o'clock the servants were summoned into the room, 
the devotions being conducted by Mademoiselle Bois- 
teilleul, after which they all retired to their own 
apartments, and by ten o'clock the household was 
asleep. Such was country life in Brittany among the 
upper classes a century ago. 

Wot far from Lamballe the driver had taken up two 
young girls, who had walked about thirty miles the 
previous day, and were now returning to their home in 
the vicinity of St. Malo. He had at first asked them 
three francs each, but had lowered his demand to a 
quarter of that sum. His virtue, however, was one of 
necessity, for they could not have afforded more. Re- 
membering what his wife had asserted in the morning 
with regard to the word jealousy, it was impossible now 
not to come to the conclusion that the inhabitants of 
Moncontour must be a very accommodating and easy 
people. 

Amongst the enumeration of their qualities she had 
omitted one which had not been long in displaying 
itself in force. Seventeen francs was the price agreed 
upon for conveyance to St. Malo, and my guide assured 
me he frequently drove an English gentleman who 
never gave him less than twenty. That very morn- 
ing he had received a letter from the identical gentle- 
man, requiring to be taken to Dinard on the following 
day, as business was calling him to St. Malo. It was 
not difficult to understand the hint, though it was met 
with the suggestion that there must be an unusually 
early delivery of letters if he had received his own 
already before leaving Moncontour at half-past six. 

z 



338 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



The secret of the matter was this. To reach St. Malo 
you have to cross the river in a sailing-boat, almost at 
its mouth, and Dinard being on the opposite side, the 
only way of avoiding this would be to take a different 
and much longer route. He had originally given me 
clearly to understand that he would himself convey me 
over the river as in duty bound — in other words, St. 
Malo, and not Dinard, was the goal which had been 
bargained for — and he now had recourse to this flight 
of imagination with the ideal gentleman in order to let 
me know that there never was any one so unreasonable 
as to expect to be taken beyond the last-named place. 

The country after leaving Plancoet had become tame 
and void of interest, and the latter part of the journey, 
therefore, was monotonous. Late in the afternoon we 
approached Dinard, and our first intimation of it was 
conveyed by the apparition of a female figure decked 
out in all the marvellous exaggeration of a British 
exile. Margate, surely, could boast of nothing like it, 
for without doubt the idiosyncrasies of fashion are 
never so intricately developed at home as in our French 
and other foreign settlements. For the credit of our 
countrywomen, however, one is glad to think that it is 
the exception, and not the rule, to see these fashions 
thus ludicrously caricatured. 

The boats cross the estuary at stated periods, and 
take perhaps a quarter of an hour to accomplish the 
run. If, however, you are in a hurry you have only to 
ring a bell, which is suspended on abeam alongside the 
wharf, and immediately a couple of sailors come down 
to take you across, though you have to pay an extra 
franc over and above the ordinary fare, no matter 
whether the boat is full or empty. As it came on to 
rain and there was no shelter, I took advantage of 



Fleeting Summer. 



339 



this regulation, and forthwith, on hearing the bell, a 
number of people who were waiting hurried down to 
the place of embarkation and quite filled the boat. 

The table d'hote that evening at St. Malo, after the 
dingy hotels of Lower Brittany, appeared most brilliant. 
Alterations were being effected in many parts of the 
town. They were erecting a beautiful crocketed steeple 
on the tower of the parish church — this, at least, was 
an improvement — but, on the other hand, workmen 
were engaged in pulling down some of the fine tall 
houses in one of the principal streets. Two women 
who were passing expressed their regrets, and ex- 
claimed, "Ah, how melancholy! " "Yes, indeed, it's 
melancholy/' I answered, turning round ; but they 
thought I was mocking them, and they made no 
reply. When, however, I repeated the words they 
saw I spoke feelingly, and then they joined their re- 
grets with mine. Here, as everywhere else, antiquities 
are being swept away, for the march of " improve- 
ment " must go on. 



FLEETING SIJMMEE. 



Bright and joyous ; fair but fleeting ; 

Daylight, twilight, starlight sped ; 
And the golden hours retreating, 

By relentless fate are led 
To the dark and dreary portal 

Where the future soon shall lie, 
Crown' d with memory's wreaths, immortal, 

While the hands which weave them die. 



340 



The Pardon of Guinga?np. 



Luscious rose whom springtide raises, 

Why, ah why, thus fragile made ? 
As I tune to sing your praises, 

Now you languish, now you fade. 
Cease then, cease, my fond complaining ; 

While I dream of stars which shone, 
Stars as bright and beauteous waning, 

Swift as swiftest dreams are gone. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 



The Celtic Dialects. — Breton Ships at Carmarthen. — A Breton Peasant 
in Wales. — Parallels. — The Cornish Miner. — Love of Country. — 
Oriental Origin of the Celtic Race. — Innovations. — The Patago- 
nian Colony. — Spring in Brittany. — Sonnet. — City of Dol. — 
Cathedral. — An Old Inhabitant. — Cancale. — A Recent Breton 
Saint. — St. Malo. — Difficulty of Accommodation. 



MB 



EVERAL years had elapsed since the above 
chapters were written, and my wanderings in 
the summer had not again been undertaken in 
the direction of Brittany. The reader may perhaps 
remember that at the outset I had provided myself 
with a small pocket volume in the Welsh language, 
containing a vocabulary of many of the most ordinary 
words and sentences in every- day use, which I had 
been anxious to identify with the corresponding ex- 
pressions in the Breton tongue ; but that in neither of 
the departments of the Cotes du Nord or Finistere, 
where different dialects are spoken, had I succeeded in 
meeting with any one who could trace the slightest 
similarity, except once in the instance of some of the 
cardinal numbers, four, five, six, &c. In the Cotes du 
Nord they directed me to Finistere for the identifi- 
cation of the languages, and in Finistere they referred 
me to the Morbihan, though from the most trustworthy 
sources it appeared most likely that, if anywhere in 
Brittany, it would be in the last-named department 
where the similarity would most exist. 



34 2 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



I happened some time afterwards to go down into 
South Wales for a few weeks, and being in the neigh- 
bourhood of Carmarthen, I thought it a good oppor- 
tunity to be on the look-out for Breton ships, and 
went frequently into the town to see whether any had 
chanced to come up the river on the previous days. To 
my satisfaction I one afternoon perceived two vessels 
from Vannes, in the department of the Morbihan, at 
anchor together off the quay. I lost no time in board- 
ing them with a Welshman whom I set to speak with 
the sailors in his own tongue. I stood watching 
intently some moments for a sign of recognition, but 
the Bretons did not appear to catch a single word of 
what was said to them. After a little time they sud- 
denly exclaimed that the cabin-boy understood the 
stranger's speech, and then all eyes were directed to 
the youth in question ; but whether it was he began to 
be frightened at the notice taken of him, or that he was 
as ignorant as the rest of what was said, he would not 
even open his mouth, and though pressed repeatedly 
with the offer of a shilling to tell me whether he had 
caught up any of the address, he continued inexorably 
mute. A great deal certainly may rest with the pro- 
nunciation ; still, however, there must be a considerable 
divergence between the dialects of Brittany and, at any 
rate, the language which in Wales is spoken in the South. 

Whilst in the neighbourhood of Carmarthen, I like- 
wise hunted up a colony of Celtic- speaking Irish, and 
tried them equally with a Welsh interpreter, but with 
no greater success ; not, indeed, that it was to be ex- 
pected, for it is nowhere said that there is now any 
similarity between these two languages. 

One morning, as I was strolling over the hills a few 
miles outside the town, I saw an old man standing at 



A Breton in Wales. 343 



the door of his cottage, with whom I began a con- 
versation on much the same subject. I asked him if 
he had ever heard of his cousins on the Continent, who 
came of the same race and spoke a dialect similar to 
his own. As he was not very strong in English, he 
at first did not understand me, but suddenly the idea 
flashed across his mind, and it became evident at once 
by his readiness that he knew something on the matter. 

" A few years ago," he continued, " I was sitting one 
Sunday morning before the fire in my cottage, when I 
heard a knock at the door, and presently in came a 
wild-looking man with a gun over his shoulders, who 
asked me to direct him in his way across the hills. 
He frightened me at first, he looked so strange, and his 
speech was so uncouth, I could not understand a word 
he said. Presently, however, when I became more 
accustomed to it, I perceived he was talking Welsh, 
and he then told me he came from across the sea, 
and that his countrymen were of the same origin as 
myself. I asked him how it happened he was out 
shooting on a Sunday, and he said he didn't know 
which day of the week it was. What an old Pagan ! " 

Whatever similarity may now exist between the two 
languages, the Welshman still bears a considerable per- 
sonal resemblance to his relative the Breton, whilst in 
many parts of their respective countries you may trace 
in the appearance of the inhabitants a remarkable like- 
ness to the real Irish Celt. Stroll through a country 
town in the Principality on a market-day, and you will 
inevitably be struck by the general cast of countenance 
pervading all these tribes ; the wife riding behind the 
husband on the ambling nag, except for her tall hat, 
might very well be the farmer's wife in Finistere ; 
whilst, if you enter the cottage of the peasant on the 



344 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



mountain side, you will see the identical close-cup- 
board-like, gloomy bed which you meet everywhere in 
Brittany. Even the villages of the Celts seem to retain 
the peculiarities of their construction, and many a 
street in some poor suburb of an old Welsh town could 
very well, without incongruity, pass off as a trans- 
plantation from Fermanagh or Tyrone. 

When, however, you come to the manners and habits 
of the people, the resemblance between the Irish on 
the one hand, and the Welsh and Breton on the other, 
at once ceases. The former are invariably gay and 
lively under almost every circumstance of life; the 
latter are sombre, melancholy, and reserved, and their 
music, though beautiful, is plaintive, and seems to bear 
the stamp of the nature of its composers. We may 
well understand, on hearing the wild Welsh melodies, 
how readily the people in ancient times would have 
rushed to war at the bidding of their chiefs. What can 
be more soul-stirring than the well-known air, " Woe 
to the day?" What more pathetic, more intensely 
sweet ? In Brittany, likewise, many of the most popular 
airs are written in the minor key ; and the similarity in 
not a few of the tunes is remarkable. Take the " Siege 
of Ghiingamp," for instance, which even the most un- 
initiated would recognise as Welsh. 

In the same manner also the poetry of the Celtic 

people is pervaded everywhere by the same beautiful 

sentiment, the influence of which has been widely felt. 

There is, amongst others, an old Scotch song in Wither- 

spoon's collection which has been imitated by Burns, 

and begins thus : — 

' i gin my love were yon red rose, 
That grows upon the castle wa'." 

The parallel to this is traceable, perhaps, in the stanzas 



Fortitude of the Celt. 345 



of the " Hirondelles." * There is also somewhere a 
poem in which the following lines occur : — 

" mither, mither, make my bed soon, 
For I am sick at heart, and would fain lay doon." 

Lines very similar are to be met with in another 
Breton song. 

Again, if the priests of Armorica are gifted with 
fluency of language, the Welsh clergy almost come up 
to them in this respect. A written Celtic sermon is a 
thing scarcely known, and the latter in preaching, 
though they have not the fire of the former, sway their 
bodies backwards and forwards, and in a monotonous 
singing tone will go on, as I have frequently heard 
them, for half an hour at a time, without stumbling at 
a single word. When singing their plaintive hymns, 
the whole congregation not unfrequently join in, and 
this produces a touching and most beautiful effect. 

The Bretons and Welsh have likewise the great 
virtue of fortitude in common to a remarkable degree. 
I was told that in a year of pestilence and scarcity, the 
people in South Wales, though starving, bore the most 
trying hardships without a murmur ; and so little did 
they speak of their troubles, that a stranger would 
scarcely have been aware of their distress. This is 
precisely the case with the Celt of Cornwall, who is so 
nearly allied to the inhabitants of the Principality. 
The labourers in that county have recently (1866) 
passed through a crisis of no ordinary severity. Hun- 
dreds, if not thousands of them, have been at last 
obliged to migrate, and it was only when their trials 
were over that their misery became known beyond the 
vicinity of their own homes. 

A local paper bore this remarkable testimony to the 
* The " Hirondelles " is, I believe, a modern song. 



346 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

nobility of their nature : — " The Cornish miner in his 
distress neither howls like the frantic Irishman, nor 
curses with the bitter oaths of the drunken collier of 
the Black Country. He patiently endures and works 
on in hope of brighter days." 

He, in common with all other Celts, though perhaps 
he is superior to them all, can be strongly worked 
upon by religious excitement ; and if the Breton cannot 
exist without the imposing ceremonies of his Church, 
the Cornish and the Welsh must have their preachings 
and their tea-meetings to satisfy the craving of their 
souls. In all these races you cannot fail to be struck 
by a frequent courtesy of manner, indicative of an innate 
good breeding, which might put to shame many of a 
higher class ; and as often with the absence of that 
commonplace address which so distinguishes the peasant 
in other parts. 

One of the most touching traits in the Breton cha- 
racter, and which is to be found more or less marked 
in all other Celtic tribes, is his passionate fondness for 
his native province, and which a variety of joint causes 
tends to produce. There is something in his language, 
his songs, and his traditions, which, apart from every 
other influence, would alone favour this ; whilst the 
features of the country which gives him birth reflect 
themselves strongly on his mind — a fact which those 
best will understand who know the inspiration of the 
rolling sea, and of stately, grey, eternal granite rocks. 
This love of country is, indeed, in a measure an instinct 
with the whole human race ; but it is seldom so 
strongly marked in the inhabitants of those places 
which are destitute either of wildness or sublimity of 
scenery ; and the passing feeling of regret which a 
Norfolk peasant might feel on leaving his home to 



Ancestors of the Celt. 



347 



settle in a foreign land would bear not the slightest 
comparison with the sad, earnest longing for his lakes 
and mountains which would to his dying day haunt 
the bosom of the Swiss, or the Celt of the mighty 
Pyrenees. 

This yearning for the sublime they inherit from 
their forefathers, for the same restless race who of old 
came in from the East and wandered to the setting 
sun were drawn instinctively to those spots on which 
nature had set the seal of the beautiful or the wild. 
So, whether by the romantic land-locked basin of 
Balaclava, or far off on the wooded shores of the placid 
Bala lake embosomed in the Merionethshire hills ; 
whether on the iron coast of the lone Channel Isles, 
or amid the soft pastoral scenery of Grwernesney in 
Monmouthshire ; whether at the Daoulas of Armorica, 
or the Douglas of Man (ill-omened reminiscence of a 
" twofold murder"), there they left alike their traditions 
md their names. 

The same traditions, modified by time and circum- 
stances, might some of them, in not a few of these 
places, be traced to their one common source ; whilst 
the names of localities in Wales and Cornwall are in 
numerous instances almost identical with those in 
Brittany, where the " Tre, Pol, and Pen " are every- 
where to be found. Nay, do not even both peninsulas 
in France and England, owe their derivation to the 
Latin coma ? But whilst localities in Britain repro- 
duce themselves so obviously in Brittany, it would be 
a most interesting study to ascertain the exact connec- 
tion subsisting between the Celtic race and other nations 
of the East, and whether we can in any way identify 
it with that mysterious people on the American conti- 
nent, the remains of whose civilisation attest strongly 



348 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

their relationship with the highest advanced nations of 
the old world. 

It may be taken as an axiom that the ancestors of 
these tribes migrated at one time or other from the 
East, though how they got there is not so easily ex- 
plained ; and though it would be out of place for those 
who have never gone deeply into such a subject to 
speak otherwise than suggestively, one cannot but be 
struck with the affinity of names found in Mexico, 
California, and Peru, with certain Celtic words. No 
one, indeed, can doubt, after seeing the beautiful repre- 
sentations of the sacred edifices of Central America by 
Mr. Catherwood, that they were designed after the 
Egyptian model ; but do we not find even in Brittany 
the traces of Egyptian influence ? For what connection 
may there have been originally between the Druidical 
granite temples of Carnac in Morbihan, and the granite 
temples of Karnac in Egypt ? And have Boulac, 
Carnabat, and Caro, names which are found in the 
first-mentioned country, only an accidental similarity 
in sound with others still extant in the latter ? There 
are multitudes of words, indeed, which would be a most 
interesting study ; take, for instance, Asaph, Gru£- 
henno, Iffendic, and the like. 

How old things everywhere now pass rapidly away ! 
Though Wales and Brittany have long since ceased to be 
independent countries, for centuries those among their 
sons who loved their language and their traditions 
felt with satisfaction that their nationality was distinct. 
Time worked its changes then but slowly, and every- 
thing seemed to go on dreamily and poetically, even as 
it had done in the days of their fathers. The men of 
Harlech, though they might not hate the Saesnach, 
yet could feel proud when they saw their bards, and 



Summer Tourists. 



349 



listened to the music which reminded them of the 
ancient valour of their race; and the nature-loving 
poet could roam thoughtfully by the lakes and tarns 
of his beautiful Merionethshire, and look up in wonder 
at the cloud-capped height of giant Snowdon, round 
which still swooped the monarch of birds ; he, too, the 
proud representative of a line becoming surely, though 
gradually, extinct. 

But the great annihilator of time and distance is 
revolutionising rapidly all these scenes ; and a com- 
mingling of races is gradually going on. Happily for 
himself, it is not every Welshman who looks with a 
feeling of regret upon, and considers in the light of a 
vulgar intruder, the modern huge hotel and staring 
villa, which break on the once peaceful solitude of his 
mountain home ; and it is perhaps more with deference 
than scorn that the ordinary peasant gazes on the 
crowd of summer tourists, many of them flushed with 
the acquisition of sudden wealth, who, unaware that 
Wales has a history, come down to show themselves at 
these grand hotels, supremely ignorant that the un- 
couth speech they sneer at was spoken centuries ago 
by the ancestors of these very men, princes possibly 
at a time when their forefathers were serfs. 

But with all their poverty, a nobler instinct, incom- 
prehensible to the many, still animates a few superior 
minds ; and the supercilious indifference of the haughty 
Saxon strikes cruelly on the thoughtful and impassioned 
soul. And now that hundreds of years have passed 
away since the founders of their race first came to 
people these grand mountain solitudes, they are im- 
pelled by the same strange impulse to fly with their 
language and traditions from the ruthless spoiler, and 
to preserve them as sacred legacies in the distant 



350 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

West. And though this unwonted feeling to some 
may savour possibly of self, here indeed is no ignoble, 
vulgar selfishness ; for this colony on the shores of 
inhospitable Patagonia is but a poor compensation for 
the beautiful green valleys of their own native land ; 
and if it may be said without profanity, the feeling 
which has prompted them to go forth, though of an 
inferior nature, reminds one at least of that which of 
old induced the yet more noble to leave home, and 
friend, and relative, and everything, for no earthly or 
visible reward. 

How in that rude region must their spirits sink 
within them, as they picture to themselves the warm 
breath of April calling forth the flowers in the sheltered 
nooks of their own mountain homes, and fancy they 
again hear the lowing of the kine, or see them cropping 
the rich grass on the steep hill-side in the early spring ! 
This season is equally beautiful in all Celtic countries, 
for both Wales and Brittany are sea-nursed peninsulas, 
which, looking to the West, feel all the more gloriously 
the first warm breath of genial May. No wonder if 
the Breton poet believed his own province to be infi- 
nitely more favoured than all the other districts in the 
chilly, sluggish, wind-blighted East. 

" The spring in Brittany is more genial than in the 
environs of Paris, and the blossoms are more than three 
weeks in advance. The five birds which announce the 
coming spring — r-the swallow, the loriot, the cuckoo, 
the quail, and the nightingale — arrive with the breakers 
which seek shelter in the gulfs of the Armorican 
peninsula. The ground is clad with daisies, pansies, 
jonquils, narcissus, hyacinths, ranunculus, anemones, 
like the wild spots which surround St. John de Lateran 
and the Holy Cross of Jerusalem at Rome. The glades 



Sonnet o?i Spring. 



35i 



are diversified with the blended tints of tall and elegant 
firs, intermingled with the flowers of the broom and 
the furze, so brilliant that they might be mistaken for 
gold- winged butterflies. 

" The hedges, which abound with wild strawberries, 
raspberries, and sweet-smelling violets, are decked 
with the hawthorn, honeysuckle, and brier, whose dark 
and entwining stems are covered with blossoms and 
magnificent foliage. Bees, birds, and butterflies ani- 
mate every place ; and the numerous birds'-nests arrest 
the steps of children at every turn. Here and there, in 
some sheltered spot, the laurel-rose and the myrtle 
flourish in the open air as in Greece ; the fig tree 
yields its fruit as in Provence ; and every apple tree, 
with its carmine flowers, resembles the bouquet of a 
village bride." 

An exquisite little poem on the same subject was 
written once by a Duke of Orleans ; the same who 
fought at Agincourt, and was taken prisoner by the 
English. The stanzas may be rendered thus : — 

LE TEMPS EST VENTJ. 

SPErxG, with fleet foot, to chase away 
Time's icy rule, comes round again, 

And robes the earth in raiment gay, 
All soft with genial showers of rain. 

River and fountain, rill and stream, 
With gems to grace the growing year, 

In laughing sunlight these redeem, 
And all their silver livery wear. 

Bird, reptile, beast, of every name, 

And insect on the feeble wing, 
Doth each in several tongue proclaim 

This welcome first sweet word of spring. 



352 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



Spring, with fleet foot, to chase away 
Time's icy rule, comes round again, 

And robes the earth in raiment gay, 
All soft with genial showers of rain. 

Between the period of the writing of the previous 
and present chapters the railway through Brittany 
had been opened; and a heartfelt wail had gone up from 
the poets of Quimper. This year, however, the readers 
will not be conducted to La Bretagne Bretonnante, bat 
only to one quiet little frontier town. 

The scene is the ancient city of Dol, the time Sunday 
morning. The rain is pouring down in torrents, and 
the bells of the cathedral are ringing for the "grande 
messe." Notwithstanding the sheets of water which 
are descending so rapidly, the people are flocking into 
the church, for there is now no other beside it in the 
town, and the nave is soon so crowded with worship- 
pers that at length there is scarcely even standing 
room. There have long ceased to be any distinctive 
features or costumes in this part of the country, which 
is almost on the borders of Normandy, and except that 
here and there a man may be seen covered with a 
goat's or sheep's skin, there is nothing at all noticeable 
in the peasant's dress. Presently the service commences, 
and the organ at the west end peals forth. It has 
once been a beautiful instrument, and has even yet a 
few sweet notes ; but, on the whole, it is sadly worn 
out, and its tone is irrevocably gone. 

By-and-by one of the officiating priests ascends the 
pulpit, and commences reading out a list of the feast 
days in the ensuing week. His discourse, delivered 
without any hesitation, is chiefly on the glories® of 
Mary, who, though so pure and so exalted, is yet not 
exempted from the last great tribute which she owes 



An Indiscreet Question. 353 



to nature by her Divine Son. The sermon over, a vast 
moving of chairs ensues, and then a shuffling of feet 
on the stone flags ; the great north doors are opened, 
and the congregation gradually disperses. • 

I had noticed in the crowd standing near me a very 
aged- looking woman, haggard and wrinkled ; and of 
her I fancied I might be able, perhaps, to glean some 
incident or story of the old revolutionary times. Ac- 
cordingly, when the service was over, I went up to her 
and asked her (it was an indiscreet question, even to an 
ancient female) what her age might be. She did not 
answer with the same urbanity with which Jacob re- 
plied to Pharaoh when demanded the very same ques- 
tion ; and all the acknowledgment I was favoured with 
was a scornful jerk of the head, which clearly meant 
to say I was far too curious. " The fact is," I continued, 
" I had a few halfpence in my pocket, and I was curious 
to know whether you remembered any of the occur- 
rences at the period of the first great Revolution." 

This altered the complexion of the case entirely, and 
a decided thaw was immediately perceptible in the 
mind and manner of the old crone. She was, however, 
not nearly so ancient as she looked, for she stated her 
age, and all she could recollect of that troublous period 
was something very dim about the Chouans, and her 
interest now lay clearly more in the halfpence than in 
them. 

The Cathedral of Dol is a fine old Gothic edifice, built 
of the granite of the country. It stands out well as 
you approach it, but its mutilated porches when you 
enter, and dilapidated interior, would afford ample 
scope for the judicious hand of the restorer. The height 
of the interior is just of sufficient proportion, and 
though not striking for loftiness, is yet more corn- 

A A 



354 



The Pardon of Guingamp, 



manding than many of our own English, cathedrals— 
that of Wells, for instance, the nave of which is 
painfully low. 

The view from the tower embraces a wide extent of 
territory, and you can see far into Normandy, with 
Mont St. Michel rising up proudly from the sands, and 
the small, abrupt, granite hill of Mont Dol, covered 
with windmills, in the more immediate vicinity. The 
country in every direction is low and flat, with but few 
natural attractions, but so highly cultivated, with trees 
and orchards in every direction, and country houses 
here and there peering through them, that it has the 
appearance of one continuous wood. The houses in Dol 
are many of them old and quaint, and formerly ran in 
open arcades, supported by twisted granite pillars, the 
whole length of the street. They are now, however, 
being rapidly modernised, and few of the arcades are 
left. The sea in former times came up close to the 
city, and but small traces of the walls and gateways 
now remain. It appeared as if the place since the 
opening of the railway had even less of life than when 
I passed it in the diligence fourteen or fifteen years 
before. Its antiquity, however, has not been intruded 
upon, and they have endeavoured to tone down the 
modern look of the station by an avenue of trees leading 
from it into the town. 

Steam has not yet, perhaps, so much disturbed the 
balance of things in out-of-the-way districts on the 
Continent as it has in England ; for at a small inn near 
the station of La Gouesniere, between Dol and St. Malo, 
you can still get a breakfast of excellent coffee, with 
eggs and bread and butter, for as low a sum as four- 
pence. This indeed is sufficiently primitive ; but, on the 
other hand, you see the Pilgrimage to St. Anne adver- 



Village of Cancale. 



355 



tised on the walls to be made by railway, and this 
gives rather a shock to preconceived ideas. Within an 
easy walk is a fine old chateau, surrounded by woods 
and avenues, the property of M. de Kergariou, a Breton 
nobleman. From the same little station you can go by 
the courier, who comes to meet the train, to the seaport 
town, or rather village, of Cancale, so celebrated for its 
oysters, and in front of which, a few miles out at sea, 
rises up a lofty, romantic-looking rock, which gives its 
name to many houses of entertainment in various parts 
of France, where that delicacy is a standing dish. Of 
course at the inn you eat an oyster lunch, or breakfast, 
as the case may be. 

Beyond the extensive and well- sheltered bay you 
have a beautiful panorama, with the Cathedral of Dol 
in the distance, and Mont St. Michel at the further 
verge. The village of Cancale is a melancholy place, 
for half the inhabitants are far away in North America, 
at the fishing- station of St. Pierre de Miguelon ; and 
women here sit at the doors of their houses, knitting 
warm winter jackets for sons and husbands who are 
destined, perhaps, never to return. About this very 
period a frightful storm was overtaking them in their 
distant labours, and a month or two afterwards the 
melancholy news came home. Scores of fishing-boats 
drove ashore at Miguelon, and hundreds of these toilers 
of the sea went down. 

Whilst walking on for the courier to overtake me, I 
passed a cottage near the extremity of Cancale, over 
the door of which was a granite block with an old 
Breton inscription, whose date was perhaps anterior to 
the house itself ; at any rate, it would seem to show 
that the language was still spoken here three hundred 
years ago. The servant of whom I made inquiry 



356 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

invited me to come in, and said her mistress was away 
at a funeral, and would probably be home again very 
shortly. She would willingly give me every informa- 
tion on the subject. The courier, however, passed before 
her return. This servant, who was very communicative, 
gave me the history of a recent Breton saint, M. 
Bachelot, who had been a priest in the neighbourhood, 
and was buried at Pleine Fougeres, whither she herself 
had lately made a pilgrimage. Many miracles had 
already been wrought at his tomb. Amongst others, a 
little girl in Cancale, who lived lower down in the 
village, had been cured of bad eyes through his efficacy, 
though she had previously been to Dinan for operation 
and the best advice. 

The races that week were going on at St. Malo, and 
the place was completely transformed. The hotels 
were crowded, as speedily was evident by the waiters 
and chambermaids taking not the slightest notice of 
you as you approached. After trying in vain at all the 
better houses, the only alternative was to accept accom- 
modation at a second-rate establishment ; and through 
the room over a stable, which was double-bedded, were 
obliged to pass, in order to reach their own, a father, 
mother, and two nearly grown-up daughters, who 
apparently occupied the same. 

The landlady, though not exactly a devotee, pro- 
fessed great faith in the intercessory powers of St. 
Celestin, whose bones repose, with his effigy in wax, in 
a glass case behind the high altar of the old parish 
church ; and she told how a gentleman lately saved 
from shipwreck had burnt a votive taper at his shrine. 
A storm in the evening, and an unusually high tide, 
brought the people in crowds to the town wall, and the 
sight of the breakers on the rocks was grand. 



CHAPTER XXV. 



Lanmeiir. — The Crvpt. — Tradition. — Chateau de Boiseon. — Tronfeun- 
tenion. — An Old Soldier. — Walk to St. Jean du Doigt. — Tradi- 
tion of the Sacred Finger. — Approach to the Village. — Parish 
Church. — Pilgrims. — The Pardon. — Mendicants. — High Mass. — 
The Inn. — Increasing Crowds. — The Procession. — Fall of the 
Eope. — The Dragon. — Touching with the Relic. — Curious Custom. 
— Plouganou. — Bonfires. — A Pleasant Occupation. — A Profane 
Gensdarme. — Crosses of Salvation, — In June. 

"MOTHER year. Midsummer- eve was approach- 
ing, and with it the pilgrimage of St. Jean 
du Doigt. I had been remaining a few days 
at Morlaix, and set out at noon on foot, with the inten- 
tion of taking up my quarters in the hamlet on the 
night previous to the Pardon. It was a broiling day, 
and instead of going the direct road I took a circuitous 
route in order to see the church in the village of Lan- 
meur, a distance from Morlaix of about eight miles. 
Here, however, I remained and slept, for the journey in 
the hot sun had been fatiguing, up and down steep hills 
the whole way. There was nothing at all in the archi- 
tecture of the church worth notice, but beneath the 
choir is a crypt or chapel, with a sacred fountain dedi- 
cated to St. Melaire, which is said to be efficacious in 
diseases of the joints. It is one of those which dates 
from the time of the old Druidical worship, and was 
consecrated by the early Christian missionaries to the 
purposes of the new faith. 

There is a curious tradition concerning it which I 
found to be almost universal ; for on a certain Trinity 




358 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



Sunday, during the performance of High Mass, the well 
is to overflow and submerge the church. To this day, 
therefore, on the occurrence of that festival, there is no 
morning service at Lanmeur, but the people adjourn to 
the neighbouring church of Kernitrone, about a quarter 
of a mile beyond. Almost every third house in the 
village hangs out the sign of the ivy or the mistletoe, 
and the best of the inns is a miserable, dirty place. 

The people here are fortunate in having for their 
mayor an enlightened man, the Viscount du Dresnay, 
whose country seat is rather more than two miles off. 
I had seen it in the afternoon, having been attracted 
by a beautiful broad avenue of beech trees and delicious 
woods, through which for some distance I had wandered 
off the high-road until I came to a walled enclosure, 
old and grey, surrounding the ruin of what was once 
the princely Chateau de Boiseon. The present owner, 
who was fishing in an extensive pond, told me that the 
property had been in the possession of the Quotinisan 
family, but the place was dismantled by Henri IV. 
The only residence now is a small but substantial gra- 
nite house, and there is just sufficient ruin to attest to 
the grandeur of the former pile. It has a melancholy 
air of loneliness and desertion, and except for the bark- 
ing of a large dog, shows very little sign of life. 

There are not many avenues in England which can 
compare with those attached to continental residences. 
About two miles from Morlaix, on the direct road to 
St. Jean du Doigt, is an unusually fine one, long and 
broad, with the trees arching over like the aisle of a 
cathedral, and leading to the Chateau de Tronfeuntenion. 
The old yew avenues at East Tytherley, in Hampshire, 
could not for a moment come up to it. The owners of 
these estates (so I was told by one of them") make it a 



An Old Soldier. 



359 



point of honour not to cut down timber wherever it has 
once stood ; and here again is an instance of the con- 
servative spirit of the Bretons of the higher class. 

At Lanmeur, in the evening, I fell in with an old 
soldier who remembered how, when a child, the price 
of meat in this neighbourhood was three halfpence a 
pound, and a calf could have been bought for twenty- 
five sous. The regiment in which this man had served 
was composed almost entirely of Bretons, privates and 
officers. Talking of home-sickness, he said that when 
abroad this disease makes its appearance there is abso- 
lutely no remedy whatever ; the men become prostrate, 
and die very speedily. Whilst stationed at St. Omer 
almost all his corps were attacked with dysentery. He 
was sent home invalided to Lanmeur, and made a vow 
on the road that if ever he got better he would make a 
pilgrimage to St. Anne d'Auray. On the fourth day 
after his reaching home he recovered, and at the first 
opportunity he hastened to fulfil his vow. 

Early the next morning I set out for the scene of the 
Pardon. Already, at five o'clock, the people were 
kneeling in the street in front of an altar which had 
been erected for the procession of the Fete Dieu. The 
road to St. Jean du Doigt is a by one, through a wild, 
thinly-populated district, covered partially with fields 
of fern, and the distance is between five and six miles. 
The houses are few and far between ; they are chiefly of 
the poorest sort, and you come occasionally in the road 
across some ragged boy or girl driving swine or cattle 
with a long thin switch. Before proceeding further, 
however, it will be as well to give a brief account of the 
origin of this celebrated pilgrimage, and the auspices 
under which it once was held. 

The Evangelists tell us that after the execution, by 



360 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

King Herod, of St. John the Baptist, the body was 
borne away by his disciples and buried in Samaria. 
The tomb, however, was subsequently violated by order 
of Julian the Apostate, who caused what remained of 
it to be burned. The fire being quenched by a mira- 
culous rain, some few relics of it were saved by pious 
Christians, and the forefinger of the right hand was by 
them sent to Philip the Just, Patriarch of Jerusalem. 

Passing over a long course of years, of its fate during 
which history is silent, we enter suddenly on the time 
of the Crusades, at which period it came into the pos- 
session of Thecle, a Norman virgin, who built for it, 
near St. Lo, in her own province, the Church of St. 
Jean du Day ; and here for many ages it was held in 
the highest honour by Christians of every class. In 
the early part of the fifteenth century Duke John V. of 
Brittany made a journey to Pouen for the purpose of 
an interview with Henry V. of England. On his re- 
turn a young Breton soldier of Plougaznou, attached 
to one of the nobles in the escort of the Duke, came to 
do homage to the sacred relic ; but on his journey 
homeward, lo ! the tr^es on the wayside bow before him, 
and the church bells involuntarily ring. Taken for a 
sorcerer, he is cast into prison ; but invoking the assist- 
ance of St. John, he awakes next morning in his beloved 
country. He reaches the Chapel of Traon Meriadec, 
and falls down to worship that merciful Being who had 
permitted him once more to see the tower of his native 
place ; and there, as he thanks God, the sacred finger 
which, without his knowledge, he had borne away in his 
right hand, leaps straight upon the altar, while at the 
same time the tapers blaze in light. The rumour of 
the prodigy spreads far and wide. The Duke, on hear- 
ing of the unwonted marvel, makes a present of two 



Finger of Si. John. 



361 



silver marcs to cover the precious relic. The miracles 
continue, and the offerings of the faithful prove so 
abundant that a new and more splendid chapel is 
erected on the site of the old. In spite, however, of the 
lavish gifts of many rich seigneurs of the neighbourhood, 
the work was frequently interrupted, and it was not 
until 1513 that the present edifice was consecrated, just 
seventy-three years after the laying of the first stone. 

The finger of St. John has always shown a special 
virtue in derangement of the organs of sight ; and 
the Duchess Anne being attacked with a fluxion of the 
left eye, would willingly have made a pilgrimage to 
St. Jean, but that she apprehended danger from the 
crowd of people who betook themselves to the church 
from every corner of the province on the eve of the 
fete day of the saint. She therefore remained at 
Morlaix, and ordered the relic to be brought to her 
there. The case was opened, but the finger was not 
within. The Duchess took the hint, and, whether 
miracle or not, she understood it was meant that she 
should make the pilgrimage herself. She came in a 
litter as far as the manor-house of La Boessiere, where 
subsequently was erected a cross to commemorate the 
event, and then on foot to the Lande de Festour, when 
she enriched the church with the chalice and banners, 
which remain a monument to her munificence to this 
day. 

Such, in a few words, is the history of the sacred 
finger, which, recovered as they tell us by a miracle, 
and preserved to this moment, if genuine, by little less, 
has wrought so many cures in every age. The Maltese, 
indeed, had once disputed the genuineness of the relic, 
and claimed the real finger for themselves ; but the 
question was for ever set at rest by a politic but sincere 



362 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



prince, who assured the pious islanders that the piece 
in their possession was the middle, and that belonging 
to the Bretons the forefinger of the right hand. 

"John did no miracles," says a sacred historian, 
making mention of the Baptist. What an enviable 
faith to accord the power to this fragment of withered 
flesh, taken at hazard from the hand of some unknown 
being, who possibly in his lifetime was anything but a 
worthy or a saint ! 

The first notification of the vicinity of St. Jean du 
Doigt was given by the sight of a blind beggar, who, 
with his hat in his hand, was kneeling in the road, and 
whining apparently a paternoster. As I approached 
the hamlet I was overtaken by two men, pilgrims from 
a distance, who had been walking that morning since 
half-past two. I was addressed by one of them, who 
said to me, after the first salutation, "You will soon 
see sights which will send a chill of horror through the 
heart of man/' He was not far wrong. That steep 
but pleasant hill leading down into the vale, which for 
beauty might well have been the happy abode of Rasselas, 
was held at intervals by mendicants and afflicted people 
of every sort, some of whom were horrible to behold. 
A bend of the road reveals to you the handsome tower 
and spire of the village church, backed up by hills 
purple with the bloom of heath, or green with grass 
and fern. A stream flows through the valley to the 
sea — a delightful little bit of Welsh scenery, oak trees 
and elms, whitethorn and honeysuckle, sycamore and 
hazel, and cottages with curling smoke. 

You enter the churchyard by a massive granite gate- 
way, on the summit of which was formerly an altar, 
where mass was celebrated on the day of the Pardon. 
On the left-hand side is a beautiful stone fountain, 



Church of St. Jean du Doigt. 363 

with a trough nine or ten feet in diameter, and lofty in 
proportion, and throwing up a stream of water ; and 
on the right a small altar or funeral chapel, crowned 
by an iron lantern, which in ancient times on the eve 
of the fete was lighted up at sunset, not only that those 
in the hamlet might see through the night the tombs 
of their friends, and pray for their deliverance, but 
also to preserve the pilgrims from that fear of the 
darkness which the shadow of death is wont to bring. 
The church at one time, though not extremely lofty, 
was evidently, and indeed is still, a graceful edifice, 
with a beautiful groined porch. The interior is well 
proportioned, has fine granite pillars with delicately- 
carved capitals supporting the roof, and long, narrow, 
lancet windows, east and west. But the chef-d'oeuvre 
is the tower, such a one as in England is seldom seen 
in a country church ; and at its base are an ossuary and 
the village prison. It is crowned by a spire, unfor- 
tunately now in zinc or lead, with four dwarf steeples 
of the same metal at its base. 

The principal saints of this church after St. John 
the Baptist are St. Eloy, St. Maudet, and St. Francois 
d' Assise. A large medallion suspended from a pillar 
represents the head of the former bleeding at the neck 
and resting on a charger. The pilgrims were em- 
bracing it fervently, and anointing their eyes with water 
from a small reservoir, over which was written, " Dour 
ar bis," " Eau du doigt de St. J ean." Many of them took 
out phials from their pockets, and carefully filled them 
with the precious fluid. Not far from this were effigies 
representing the baptism of Jesus. Every one on enter- 
ing the church made the circuit of these figures three 
times, some of them on their knees, depositing in the 
first place lighted tapers in front of them. Beneath 



364 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

them were relics in golden cases, and a railing round 
them was supplied at the top with a capacious alms box, 
six feet in length, covered with slits, to receive the 
offerings of the faithful. The altar at the east end was 
fitted with a similar contrivance, and after the celebra- 
tion here of an early mass the people came in crowds 
to be touched on the eyes with the precious relic, which 
is sealed securely in a silver case. I had previously asked 
one of the officiating priests whether instances of cures 
were numerous. He had shrugged his shoulders and 
replied uncertainly, "C'est selon la foi" Coming up 
now to me, as I stood near the altar, he quickly said, 
" It's from curiosity. I cannot let you see it and 
then, before I had time politely to draw back, he touched 
me with it, in the same way as he had touched all the 
people, on both the eyes. As these, in the case of many 
of the pilgrims, are diseased and sore, it would not be 
surprising if complaints were occasionally communi- 
cated, as the relic is passed promiscuously from one to 
the other, when there happens to be some malignant 
flux. 

Leaving the church for the present until the time for 
High Mass at ten o'clock, I made my way to the inn close 
by. The crowd was becoming gradually thicker; the 
people, as they arrived, carrying small peeled wands, the 
token of a pilgrim, invariably walking three times round 
the exterior of the church ; many of them the same num- 
ber of times round the mortuary chapel, before which 
they stopped and knelt down to pray. Everything within 
the enclosure is considered sacred, and the large granite 
fountain was taken possession of by women, who sold 
draughts of water out of it in earthenware bowls for a 
halfpenny, the pilgrims first washing their hands and 
faces, and sometimes their feet, and using it as a lotion 



Breton Mendicants. 



365 



for the eyes, whilst not unfrequently those afflicted 
with rheumatism have it poured down their backs. 
Not a few of them, especially the older people, knelt 
down previously on the steps and crossed themselves, 
and then, engaging for a few moments in prayer, rose 
up in faith to drink. Many were the blind and weakly 
who came that morning to the fountain, and, as they 
thought of its efficacy, went away animated with fer- 
vent hope. 

The east end of the churchyard presented a sicken- 
ing aspect. All the most loathsome mendicants from 
every part of Brittany had congregated here for the 
Pardon — men palsied and deformed ; women covered 
with flowing sores ; dwarfs, paralytics, lame, dumb, 
and blind. These held out shells or wooden dishes for 
alms, heaping blessings on those who bestowed them. 
Many of the charitable were themselves likewise poor, 
and could only afford to give the fraction of a half- 
penny, and, if they had no change, they would take 
back one, two, three, and even four centimes from 
the shell. Some of these mendicants, however, if 
not too enfeebled by disease, pass by no means an 
unhappy life, and I have seen them in the intervals of 
their business spending their money at neither the 
lowest nor the worst of inns. 

The Church of St. Jean du Doigt is by far too small 
to admit, at the same moment, even the twentieth part 
of those who flock to it. Accordingly a large propor- 
tion of the pilgrims were content to remain in the 
churchyard during the performance of High Mass. A 
quarter of an hour or so after it had begun, a procession 
of peasants, armed with old muskets and drums, but 
carrying no uniform, forced their way somehow down 
the nave. Women in picturesque lace caps then came 



366 The Pardon of Giringamp. 



round with plates for the contributions of the faithful, 
which were chiefly made in coppers and offerings of 
thin twine or flax. The sight that morning was one 
full of the most exquisite poetry — the glorious sun- 
shine, the picturesque hills enclosing the hamlet, the 
clump of oak trees in the churchyard, the crowd of 
peasants outside following the service, and who, at the 
moment of the benediction, fell down as one man upon 
their knees — it was a scene in harmony with the old 
traditions of a summer's day. The service wound up 
with a procession, and then a stream of people over- 
flowed the vale. 

The inn, which was a good one for a hamlet of its 
size, was crowded inconveniently for the remainder of 
the day : every room in the house, from bed-room to 
kitchen, was taken possession of indiscriminately by 
the surging mass. It was a difficult matter to obtain 
anything to eat or drink. The space in front of it, the 
roads around it, the churchyard itself, were densely, 
almost impenetrably packed. Seated next to me at 
table was a young and well-informed man, a native of 
Brittany, who spoke the language of the country, and 
who told me he was " religious by conviction/' and had 
" come in faith." Not unread in ecclesiastical history 
and controversial subjects, and aware of the recent 
movements in the English Church, he told me I had 
only to read a certain work which he recommended, 
and he was confident I would change my creed for that 
of Rome. A crowded room was no place for discussion, 
else would I have pointed to, at least, one impenetrable 
barrier, the fond but poetic spectacle which was being 
now enacted. Later in the afternoon he managed to 
squeeze himself into the church, and was touched on 
the eyes by the holy relic. 



The Procession. 



367 



When the hour for vespers had arrived there must 
have been at least three times the number of people 
in the hamlet that there were in the morning. On the 
summit of the hill, looking to the south-east of the 
church, had been piled materials for a bonfire on a 
gigantic scale, and a rope upwards of a quarter of a 
mile in length was suspended between this and the base 
of the steeple, in order that at a given signal a " dragon " 
might be sent from one end to the other to light 
it up. On the side of the hill stands a cross with an 
inscription to the memory of a young man who, fifteen 
or sixteen years ago, had been killed by the fall of the 
rope, a piece of iron striking him on the head. It is 
only a wonder that accidents do not more frequently 
take place ; for the population of St. J ean is about two 
or three hundred, and on the day of the Pardon there 
are usually from twelve to fifteen thousand people con- 
gregated in a very narrow space. When vespers were 
over a long procession started from the church, and on 
its arrival the bonfire was to be lighted up. 

Hard by the pile was another sacred fountain, and 
here also were stationed women doling out bowls of it 
to those who wished to wash and drink. The ascent of 
the hill was long and toilsome, for the banners of the 
Duchess Anne were heavy, and men were staggering 
beneath the weight. More than once they fell from 
the hands of those who carried them, but their fall was 
broken by the people alongside, who were continually 
anticipating some such disaster. Every few minutes 
there was a change of bearers, and so great was the 
struggle for the honour that gensdarmes had to be 
stationed close to each of them to prevent a breach of 
the peace. 

In former times at many of the Pardons, when the 



368 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



blessing of an abundant harvest rewarded the exertions 
of those who succeeded in carrying the sacred banner, 
it was not without frequent recourse to the penn-baz 
that the men of one department would obtain the 
victory over their rivals of some other distant place. 
To prevent a threatened riot a parish priest, on one 
occasion, announced authoritatively that on the day of 
the Pardon no procession would be allowed. When the 
moment, however, came, a rush was made to the vestry, 
and the banner forcibly carried out ; the villagers after 
that invading the parsonage, binding the arms of the 
astonished inmate with cords, placing him in a wheel- 
barrow, and compelling him, in this undignified manner, 
to take part in the ceremony which he had threatened 
to interdict ; for no religious festival would, under any 
circumstances, be real without the presence of at least 
one priest. 

Amongst the precious things carried in the pro- 
cession were the finger of St. John and a piece of the 
arm of St. Maudet in a silver case, also a model of the 
Cordeliere, one of the largest vessels constructed by 
the Duchess Anne, and which was destroyed by the 
English, after a short but glorious career, at the battle of 
St. Matthew in 1512. Every now and then, to give 
the bearers rest, a halt takes place, and then the mimic 
guns on board this ship are charged and fired off. 
Amongst those who take part in the ceremony, some of 
the most conspicuous are the "niiraclou," or cured, 
who walk barefooted and in white, and with long wax 
tapers in their hands. Occasionally a lamb, the emblem 
of innocence, is conducted by a little child, .and babies 
in arms may be seen as angels, with coloured wings 
fastened on behind. 

But what is this low murmur which passes like an 



Flight of the Dragon. 369 



electric shock through, the intently eager crowd ? for, 
from the summit to the base of the hill, attention for 
the moment has been diverted from the toiling pro- 
cession, which had now nearly reached its goal. The 
rope which was suspended between the tower and the 
pile has fallen, but fortunately has lighted harmless upon 
the heads of the people, for since that fearful accident 
fifteen years ago it has not been again encumbered 
with those ponderous iron weights. Fears, however, 
are entertained that the dragon will be slothful, and 
that the bonfire must be ignited by a priest. Mean- 
while the summit of the hill is gained, and the lengthened 
train, swelled by singers and ecclesiastics from the 
neighbouring village of Plouganou, moves slowly 
round the pile, chanting as it goes the quaint old 
hymn of the holy finger : — 

' ' Qui sacer tactu medicus medetur 
Languidis, reddis nitidumque lumen 
Perditum csecis, rigidosque morbos 
Nomine purgas." 

" Oh, sacred physician, who by thy touch comfortest 
them who languish, restorest to the blind who have 
lost it, beauteous light ; who fell diseases curest by thy 
name." 

At length the fallen rope is raised, and at a given 
signal the dragon starts from the tower of the church. 
But its course is inglorious ; it falls short of its mission, 
and fails to reach its goal. Another pause : amid the 
discharge of rockets and other fireworks the holy finger 
is dipped in the sacred fountain, and the water for 
another year will have virtue for those who come and 
drink in faith. The procession still moves round the 
pile : once more the dragon sets forth on its errand, 

B B 



370 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



but stops short determinately as before. It is clear that 
to-day this mode of igniting it must be given up. A 
priest approaches with a long wax taper, another and 
another, until at length the giant mass is all ablaze ; 
the heat grows fierce, and the crowd retreats in every 
direction before the power of the scorching flame. 

The procession now returns towards the church, and 
the same struggle for the banners'still going on, becomes 
greater and greater as they approach the gateway, for 
there is no higher honour than to be the bearer on 
entering ; and he who can lower his standard skilfully, 
so that the extremity shall not graze the stonework, 
has distinguished himself as much in the eyes of the 
men of his parish as though he had been crowned a 
victor in some great athletic game. Above all, how he 
is admired by the women and the young girls ! He has 
become a hero in the loving eyes of his betrothed. 
The rush to see this feat was overwhelming, and as 
the procession entered the church the voices of the 
priests again were heard : — ■ 

" Ter quaterque felix medicina, cujus 
Sublevat virtus avidos salutis ; 
Ut facit sancti digitus prophetse 
Omnibus segris." 

" Thrice and four times happy the remedy whose virtue 
comforts those who yearn for health ; so thus the finger 
of the holy prophet towards all the sick." 

Yet one more service now took place ; and at its 
close the crowd again pressed forward eagerly to be 
touched on the eyes with the holy relic ; while the 
silver bust of St. John, at his own station, was likewise 
being placed on the heads of pilgrims by a priest. No 
wonder at the fear of the Duchess Anne ! The sight 
was indeed curious. Women with screaming children 



Hatred of Herodias. 



37* 



pushed up towards the altar, and both mothers and 
infants received this crowning seal. 

Though the people from the neighbouring hamlets 
began slowly now to wend their way homewards, it was 
some considerable time before I could make my way 
back to the inn ; but as it was still as crowded as ever, 
from kitchen to bed-room, it would have been disagree- 
able to have remained there for the night. 

There is one peculiarity about the Pardon of St. Jean 
which makes it different from all other fetes elsewhere ; 
for whereas at most other Pardons dancing is kept up 
unremittingly till late in the evening, the people at 
this village, on account of their hatred to Herodias, 
and out of respect to the memory of her victim, from 
one year's end to the other never dance. If, however, 
" John came neither eating nor drinking/' they do not 
deem it incumbent on them to follow his example in 
this respect. At breakfast in the morning a party of 
peasants in the room in which I was, were partaking of 
bread and butter and cafe noir. The men of the company 
all put brandy into their cups, and, at the close of the 
repast, women as well as men tossed off in a moment, 
without hesitation, a good-sized wine-glassful of raw 
cognac, as though it were a thing of course. 

I now made my way over the hills amid a stream of 
people to the neighbouring village of Plouganou, 
scarcely a mile distant, passing on the route a small 
granite oratory, with a sculptured coat- of- arms, and in 
which, until of late years (if indeed the custom has not 
yet fallen entirely into disuse), young girls previous to 
their marriage were wont to hang up, in honour to the 
Yirgin, a tress of hair. The inn at this place was like- 
wise full, though without the overpowering crowd, and 
I had to pay extra for the sole use of a double-bedded 



372 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



room. Taking a lantern from the house at nightfall, I 
ascended the tower of the church, which was a lofty 
one, and from this eminence watched for many a league 
round, as far as the eye could reach, the blazing bon- 
fires on hill and plain, that long-lingering relic of Pagan 
times. Retiring to rest, I was awoke by some drunken 
people clamouring for accommodation, and trying to 
gain admittance into my room, but at the remonstrance 
of the landlady they went away. 

On the following morning there was an early service 
at the village church, for it was Midsummer's day ; and 
as I looked out of my window the people were kneeling 
on the graves of their friends. After breakfast I 
walked down to St. Jean du Doigt ; the crowd, however, 
was nothing like as great as on the previous day, and 
the majority of the mendicants and afHicted people had 
departed for some other fete. One woman seated in 
the churchyard, as business was slack, was catching 
the vermin on her child's head. I watched her for at 
least a quarter of an hour ; she was completely absorbed 
in the operation, and whenever she effected a capture, 
which happened at least twenty times, she followed the 
example of the Fijian islander, who, less from the calls 
of hunger than from a genuine instinct of revenge, 
exclaims to an enemy, under similar circumstances, 
" You choose to bite me ! now I eat you ! " Occasionally 
the child, who was very patient, made an effort to get 
away, but with a gentle yet determined tap the head 
was immediately recalled. 

A gensdarme who was standing near said to me 
that he had received orders from a priest the day before 
to put the beggars in prison when they became impor- 
tunate. " But do you think I was going to do that ?" 
he added. " Certainly not. Why do they object to the 



Crosses of Salvation. 



373 



importunity of the mendicants ? Simply because they 
take away the money that would otherwise revert to 
themselves." "But the money goes towards the 
restoration of the church?" said I. "Yes, and towards 
themselves also ; there are never less daily than five or 
six priests who come to visit St. J ean. The resident 
cure entertains them at good dinners : there's how the 
money goes." 

So much for the opinion of a gensdarme ; but a 
gensclarme is half a heretic ; and who shall estimate 
the weight of his opinion, and sift, if any, the few 
grains of truth ? for here it is evident there is a large 
proportion of alloy. 

I returned to Morlaix on foot, as I had come. At 
the summit of the hill leading out from the valley to 
the main road stands a granite cross ; and here, as the 
last reminiscence of the pilgrimage, the people once 
more kneel down and pray. These crosses, from whence 
the earliest and latest glimpses of pilgrim- churches are 
obtained, are called the crosses of salvation — a not 
unpoetic name. On the way homewards I met parties 
of peasants still coming to the Pardon, for it lasts two 
days, singing in chorus as they went their Breton songs. 



IN JUNE. 



To a cheerful chord my lute I'll tune — 
One merry and meet for laughing June — 
And the genial smiie of this radiant day 
Shall banish the vapour of care away. 



374 



The Pardon of Gitingamp. 



Above the labourer's district, hark ! 
I bear the song of the brisker lark : 

"lis a sweet and a cheerful song to hear : 
Prom the mimic throat of a warbling bird 
Not a cheerier, sweeter song I've heard, 

Nor the sound of a note more loudly clear, 

Then chide me not if I loiter yet ; 
Thus listening to his canzonet, 

I'll chase this sunny time away : 
There's music hovering round the spot, 
Oh, loving one, say, you'll chide me not, 

The while I'm lingering here to-day ? 

I linger still — the bright time flies, 
The sunlight melts in golden sheen ; 

Oh may no mists of sorrow rise. 

And love dissolving, speed between ! 




CHAPTER XXVI. 




The Cholera. — Ignorance of the Peasantry. — Fatalism. — M. Yioleau's 
Adventure. — Daughter of Emile Souvestre. — Drive to Huelgoat. — 
A Romantic Story. — Granite Boulders. — The Lake. — The Forest. — 
The Gouffre. — Church of St. Herhot. — The Cascade. — Pilgrimage 
Chapels. — Pardon of Berrion. — Offerings. — The Bonfire. — The 
Bowling-green. — Ghosts. — Mistrust of Strangers. — Superstitions. 
— Needful Times. 

HE cholera this year was raging violently in 
some parts of Brittany. In Lannion, with a 
population of seven thousand, as many as sixty 
persons were dying in a week. It had likewise visited 
Morlaix, though not in such an aggravated form, and 
was now nearly over. At the infant school alone they 
had lost twenty children ; but from the comparatively 
small number of recent mounds which the gravedigger 
showed me in one of the cemeteries, the visitation must 
have been far less severe. It had, however, created a great 
panic, and the drinking of cider for a time was inter- 
dicted, whilst prayers against the pest, with the litanies 
of St. Roch and an appeal to twelve other saints, might 
have been observed in the windows of the stationers' 
shops. The chief of these was reminded in his invocation 
how once he had miraculously stayed the plague : " 
saint who died in the odour of sanctity, and stopped 
the pestilence at Constance whilst the fathers of the 
council carried your image in procession, pray for us ! " 

Monsieur Hippolyte Violeau, an author of repute and 
poet, who in his early youth had been presented with 
the civic crown at Brest, his native place, told me that 



376 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



he had been one of those appointed to visit from house to 
house when the scourge first made its appearance in the 
town. Though a Breton by birth, he was unable to 
speak the language, but he had a colleague in the same 
district with himself who could. This gentleman was 
at the present moment away from Morlaix, and he felt 
the inconvenience greatly, the people were so suspicious 
and ungrateful. When medicine was given them which 
was at all unpalatable, they immediately concluded it was 
poison, and would throw it angrily into the grate with 
no very gentle words : " Why don't you give us brandy, 
or something which is pleasant to the taste ?" He told 
me also that last year a commercial traveller was pur- 
suing his wonted avocations in a village in the neigh- 
bourhood of Brest, the name of which he mentioned. 
The people of the place remarking him as a stranger, 
immediately fancied he was the cause of the cholera 
making its appearance amongst them ; so they seized 
him and dragged him in a brutal way through the 
roads, and would soon have murdered him, had not M. 
Violeau's brother-in-law, seeing a tumult, inquired the 
cause, and sent for the police, who were obliged to lock 
the unfortunate man up, to keep him from further 
violence at their hands. 

The Bretons as a rule, like the Orientals, are fatalists. 
Monsieur V.'s wife, before her marriage, lived at Brest. 
On one occasion she made a journey to Nantes, leaving 
her pet canary during her absence in charge of a maid- 
servant. On her return the bird was dead. Question- 
ing the woman closely, she at length admitted that she 
had forgotten to feed it during three whole days. When 
her mistress upbraided her for her culpable neglect, 
she replied most innocently, " Ah, it's time was come ; 
it was the will of God." 



M. VioleaiC s Adventure. 



377 



Monsieur Yioleau was once on a walking tour with a 
friend of his (whom I likewise happened to meet at 
Morlaix), and had arrived in the evening at the village 
of Cleguerec, in which the drawing for the conscription 
had been going on during the day. The place was 
consequently all astir, and soldiers and gensdarmes 
were walking backwards and forwards deep in conversa- 
tion in the little square. The two friends went up to a 
group of these men, and asked them to point out to them 
some house of entertainment in which they could be 
lodged for the night. They were directed to a bunch 
of mistletoe overhanging a certain doorway, but there 
they found they would have had to share a room with 
a gensdarme, and as this arrangement would have re- 
minded them of a prison, they went off to make inquiry 
at another house. This immediately excited the sus- 
picion of the police, one of whom came up to them, and 
as they had knapsacks on their backs, and were dusty 
and travel- worn, and altogether looked rather unusual 
characters, he demanded their passports then and there. 
The papers were given up, but an informality was de- 
tected in one of them. Notwithstanding a peace offer- 
ing of two francs, the brigadier fancied he had detected 
in the person of the traveller some dangerous con- 
spirator, and determined on sending him off under an 
escort to the nearest town. Monsieur Violeau in the 
meanwhile requested to see the J uge de Paix, but that 
functionary was reported ill in bed of a headache, and 
could attend to no business that night. However, he 
pressed his suit, and was ushered into the sick chamber, 
when the Juge de Paix recognised in the prisoner 
before him a poet whose works he knew and appre- 
ciated ; whereupon suspicion at once gave place to 
civility, the military were defeated, and the travellers 



378 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



were allowed to take their rest that night in peace and 
comfort at the village inn. 

Monsieur Violeau, not speaking the language of the 
country, takes no interest in its preservation. I told 
him, though perhaps it was a sentiment, I was sorry to 
see it now gradually dying out ; upon which he re- 
plied, " The natives who speak nothing else but Breton 
are a brutal race. Having very little literature in their 
own tongue, there are few resources but the public- 
house within their reach, and it is highly desirable on 
this account that they should all of them become con- 
versant with French/' 

As an illustration of the rapid strides which the 
last- mentioned language is now making, I was told by 
one of the sisters at the Salle d ? Asile at Morlaix, where 
there are from three to four hundred children, that 
when first their parents send them to the institution 
they know nothing else but Breton. In a very few 
months, however, after their admission, from inter- 
course with the Sisters and the older children, they not 
only, as a rule, have acquired French thoroughly, but 
they have almost forgotten the language with which 
they so recently came to school. 

Before leaving the neighbourhood of Morlaix and 
St. Pol de Leon I had anticipated much pleasure in 
making the acquaintance of one of the family of the 
late Monsieur Emile Souvestre, a writer who has done 
as much as any one in Brittany to ennoble the litera- 
ture of his province. Madame B. is a fascinating person, 
the fitting daughter of an impassioned poet. She spoke 
of her father sadly and earnestly, with a subdued en- 
thusiasm, and as though he had died only the other 
day. She told me how happy her mother would have 
been to have met with some one who appreciated 



Emile Souvestre. 



379 



her husband. The illness of Monsieur Souvestre was a 
long one, and he died thoroughly worn out. " Those 
of vivid imagination/ ' said Madame B., " always suffer 
most ; but at the last his death astonished us by its 
suddenness ; it was caused by a disease of the heart." 

The great merit of her father's works, she continued, 
was that they could be read in families, they were so 
pure, so different from the French writings of the present 
day, which were full of evil tendencies. He had never 
once written anything which a person need be ashamed 
to read. He was not, however, appreciated in France, 
where to lead a correct life and to write in a moral 
strain is a reproach ; much less (like the prophets of the 
olden time) was he appreciated in his own country. 

" It is sometimes the case," I remarked, " that the 
best writer is the least esteemed." 

" In France," she replied, " a sensation novel is almost 
the only style of literature which takes ; the press is 
teeming with the most mischievous works. Jules J anin, 
when he composed a notice of my father at his death, 
finished his essay with these words : 'The best way of 
summing up the character of Monsieur Souvestre is by 
saying he was an honest man' — a eulogy which he 
passed in scorn. If, however, my father was not appre- 
ciated in France, his merits were at least recognised in 
Switzerland, and when once he paid a visit to that 
country, he was no less gratified than astonished by the 
welcome, almost amounting to an ovation, which he 
there received." 

We spoke about Brittany, and I told her how grati- 
fying it was to visit a place where old traditions and 
unwavering faith essentially survived. " Not faith," 
she answered mournfully ; " there is now no longer 
any faith in Brittany. The people have retained their 



380 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



customs, and are even devotees ; but they have no reli- 
gion, they have no morality ; it is all an outside show. 
They have no one to lead them ; the priests don't teach 
them what is right. The Catholic religion is corrupt/ ' 

" Madame is not a Catholic ?" I inquired. 

" No, I am not a Catholic," answered she. 

" The Protestant/' I added, " is a purer faith." 

" I am not a Protestant," she replied. 

And then, after a while, " What a sterling man is 
Mr. I. ! I recently was present at the funeral of a 
Protestant. There were there two clergymen who de- 
livered addresses, and I was struck with the majestic 
simplicity of the rite." 

Again she added, with some hesitation, " My father 
left three children : one of them is a Protestant, another 
is a Catholic, and the third is neither one nor the 
other. It's a crime now in France not to pass as a 
Catholic. People cannot understand your not thinking 
exactly with themselves. When it first became appa- 
rent that I did not conform to the rites of the Church, 
they looked at me with suspicion ; they said I had no 
faith. They are in error. I follow the dictates of my 
conscience. My father always taught me to believe 
what that monitor told me to be right. This is far 
better than to make professions, and not to practise 
what you believe is true. Hypocrisy is hateful to me. 
Faith I possess ; but it's not the faith which is under- 
stood by the name. I believe in morality ; I believe 
in goodness ; I believe in whatever is just and pure. 
Had I been a Catholic, the very debasement of religion 
in this country would have driven me to change my 
creed." 

In her own written notice of her father which she 
gave me she says it at once becomes evident, on perusal 



Huelgoat. 



381 



of his works, that he had undertaken a special duty — 
the appealing to men's consciences and the reformation 
of their lives ; that, as a writer of novels, he renounces 
the most powerful attraction of romance. Moved now 
to stupefaction, now to anger, with the iniquities he 
discovers on every side, he assigns himself the task of 
denouncing or accusing them publicly of dragging 
them into open day. He undertakes to waken up 
society asleep in its suffering, and to point to it its 
wounds, in order that it may take alarm, and hasten to 
effect its cure. 

In the sad and earnest, but beautiful countenance of 
Madame B., you might well discover the reflex of her 
father's face, " le regard et le sourire empreints d'une 
tristesse resign ee." 

About sixteen miles from Morlaix, in the midst of 
charming scenery, lies the lonely and primitive village 
of Huelgoat. No public conveyance runs between the 
two places, and if you do not hire a vehicle to take 
you there, the only way of reaching it is on foot, or in 
the carts of the country-people after a fair or market ; 
but their departure is uncertain, and they generally 
travel at a snail's pace. A Breton gentleman who 
had come over in his own private carriage a day or 
two previously, and was stopping at the same hotel at 
Morlaix at which I had put up, was kind enough to 
give me a place on his return home, and with a pair 
of good horses we were not long in getting there. 
The first half of the route presents nothing very in- 
teresting ; but at length trees and fields and civilisation 
appear gradually to cease, and you come upon a savage, 
uncultivated district, from which three heads of rock, 
like landmarks, stand out abruptly, and you see nothing 
else on the horizon but a sweep of low hills, and here 



382 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

and there in the distance, on the unfenced stony surface, 
a few stray cattle browsing on the heath, and yet fewer 
people, happy, poor, and wild. 

My companion on the way entertained me with a 
romantic story of an Englishman, a Major Gilbert, 
recently dead, who had lived a long time in Brittany, 
and who, when one day out shooting, fell in with a 
peasant with whom he entered into casual conversation, 
which turned at length on the man's former line of 
life. He had been in the army, and had served in 
several campaigns in the Peninsular war. From certain 
remarks he made, a light flashed suddenly on the 
Major's mind. Had the man, after one particular 
battle, brought water to an English officer who was 
lying helpless on the field, tended his wounds, and 
saved his life ? He had. Major Gilbert, after minute 
inquiry, satisfied himself completely that he was talking 
to the same man. Of all places, to meet again in an 
out-of-the-way district in Brittany — the coincidence 
was extraordinary. It is not in the nature of English- 
men to forget a benefit, and the Major settled a pension 
for life on his deliverer of a thousand francs. 

He likewise told me that one of his cousins was a 
louvier, or forest-ranger, a Government appointment, 
which supposes that the holder busies himself in the 
destruction of wolves. To kill a few from time to time 
is very pleasant sport, but to kill too many would, of 
course, be to do away with the appointment, so that 
wolves in Brittany have not yet entirely disappeared. 

As we approached Huelgoat large blocks of granite 
were everywhere cropping out on the hill-sides, and 
close to the road, almost across our path, and there 
began to be appearance of considerable wood. We 
soon entered the village, and after the owner of the 



Beautiful Scenery. 3 S3 

carriage had been set down at his house, the coachman 
drove mo on to the inn at which his master had recom- 
mended me to put up. Though called an hotel, it was 
not a first-rate establishment ; the people did not treat 
their guests to the luxury of a tablecloth at meals, and 
the rooms were bare of furniture, and not particularly 
clean. It was not altogether safe either to peer into 
the kitchen, though, as one was obliged occasionally to 
pass it, a stray glance was unavoidable. As a rule, 
these Breton shrines must be approached with averted 
eyes. 

Not so the external beauties of Huelgoat ; they dwell 
in the memory like a lovely dream. You enter the 
village by an old stone bridge, on one side of which is 
a little lake, not so large as Ennerdale, backed up on 
nearly every side by low sweeping hills, and occasion- 
ally a bold rocky base coming down abruptly into the 
water. On the left is an ancient mill, overlooking a 
vast heap of giant granite boulders, which must have 
been tossed into their position in remote ages by the 
action of some roaring flood. A little further on, and 
it is a difficult matter to go down into the midst of 
them, for it requires a firm foot and a strong resolu- 
tion, especially when you come to the menage de la 
merge, where a false step might cause you to take an 
involuntary and fatal leap. Not a few of these massive 
blocks are now being quarried into, and unfortunately 
in places where they are most picturesquely set. This 
appears to be an almost barbarous proceeding, for they 
might be taken from other contiguous spots with equal 
convenience, and by no means greater labour. One of 
these blocks is a rocking- stone, though not so satisfactory 
as many others of its class. 

Immediately outside the village you enter on the 



384 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



forest, passing for three or four miles along the borders 
of a tiny canal, with the valley far below you on the 
left, and on the right huge granite boulders overlooking 
it, fringed with ferns and oaks, and ripe bilberries 
everywhere in profusion. Dragon -flies of a brilliant 
green hue sport over the surface of the water, and 
flash in the sunlight, and you seem rather to be walking 
in well- tended pleasure-grounds than in a wild and far- 
extending wood. Diverging after a while from the 
borders of the canal, and descending the thickly-covered 
hill, you come in a secluded spot on one of those natural 
curiosities which are met with chiefly in mountainous 
districts, and which adds to the romantic beauty of the 
forest in no small degree. It is called the gouffire, or 
gulf, and is an irregular hole about thirty feet deep, 
made by huge blocks of granite, being a continuation 
of the brawling river which passes through the lake at 
the entrance of the village ; and over these a fall of 
water rushes with considerable violence, appearing 
again below, at least in sound, a little lower down in a 
deep, dark, triangular hole, into which the formation of 
the rock prevents your looking. It is seen beyond in 
the valley, still running over gigantic rocks, in the 
pools amid which may occasionally be detected a good- 
sized trout. 

Above the gouffre on one side rise large masses of 
granite rock ; a mountain ash nearly overhangs it ; 
and the steep around it is everywhere covered with 
ferns, ivy, moss, lichens, oak, hazel, fir, and ash. You 
require a guide to show it to you for the first time ; but 
afterwards I frequently found my way there without 
difficulty, and sat dreamily on the edge of this romantic 
gulf. The place is perhaps almost too fascinating ; 
for here, after remaining for an hour, and listening to 



Church of St. Herbot. 



385 



the wild music of the water, which nearly sends you 
asleep, you can hardly repress a feeling of compassion 
for the world at a distance, and its toiling and scheming, 
with conventional thought and prejudice, the rivalries 
of life, and the jealousies of little minds. 

The mining operations, a mile or two beyond, which 
had been going on foe centuries, have lately been dis- 
continued, and an ugly bare place in the middle of the 
forest, contrasting strangely with the surrounding 
scenery, still marks the spot. 

Another attraction, about six miles from Huelgoat, is 
the Cascade of St. Herbot, on the road to which you see, 
stretching on every side far on the horizon, the chain 
of the so-called Black Mountains, or Montagnes d'Aree. 
A long and gradually-descending road leads at last 
into a beautiful little valley, out of which ejnerges from 
among a cluster of trees a tower in the best style of 
Grothic art, square and massive. This is the Church of 
St. Herbot. On coming up close to it you are lost in 
wonder how, in this secluded hamlet of poor insignifi- 
cant houses, such an elaborate work could ever have 
been achieved. The body of the building must origin- 
ally have been very handsome, though not lofty ; and 
the western doorway has still some exquisite granite 
carvings round its pointed arch. The north porch is a 
chamber of yet more elaborate design, groined, and 
with well- chiselled sculptures and granite statues of the 
twelve Apostles, worthy in every way of a cathedral. 
On entering the church you cannot but regret the 
dilapidation into which it has fallen. In the chancel, 
which is partitioned off by a handsome wooden screen, 
is a recumbent granite figure of St. Herbot. This saint 
is the patron of domestic beasts, especially horned 
cattle, and he cures them of every malady, if only you 

c c 



386 The Pardon of Guingamp* 



present him with a lock or portion of their hair. On 
the day of the Pardon the altar still groans beneath the 
weight of a pile of tails of cows and horses, which are led 
three times round the exterior of the church. So great 
was the repute of the saint in former times that all the 
cattle in Cornouaille enjoyed at this period a three days' 
rest, and when not brought by their owners, were said 
to find their way alone to the sacred spot. Leading 
into the churchyard is an avenue of trees, under which 
are three small sheds, which look like fountains, but 
which I was told were for the accommodation of animals 
on the day of the Pardon. 

From hence, ascending the hill through a pleasant 
wood, you are led by a guide to the fall of water which 
goes by the name of the Cascade of St. Herbot. About 
half a mile from the hamlet you come to a poor-looking, 
dilapidated mill, in a situation exquisitely picturesque. 
The stream of water which here brawls over gigantic 
granite blocks, choking up a passage between two hills, 
does not in the summer-time, especially after a long 
season of drought, present a very commanding volume ; 
but after heavy rain one has no difficulty in believing 
the fall to be, as the people in the neighbourhood tell 
you it is, stupendous. It is not sufficient to look down 
upon the cascade from the hills above it, which are 
covered on either side with heath and bilberries, and 
here and there with wood. You must go down among 
the rocks, and leap from stone to stone, and look now 
into the pools, and now on the running water, and then 
you see the place in its beauty, nd are fain to confess 
that it is a lovely spot. Descending the hill through a 
dense wood, you regain the high-road, cross over an old 
stone bridge, and then slowly toil your way back to 
Huelgoat. 



Pilgrimage Chapels. 



387 



The country in the neighbourhood abounds with 
interesting walks. In company with an Irishman, a 
retired officer, who was well acquainted with the 
district, I went to see several pilgrimage- chap els, all of 
them in remote and secluded parts : St. Maudet, by 
which are an old encampment and a sacred well ; then 
to St. Solomon, where likewise horses are brought to be 
cured ; also to St. Mathurin, far away from any hut or 
farm, near which, on the hill- side, was also a sacred 
fountain, from which the pilgrims afflicted with rheu- 
matism take water and pour it down their backs. This 
last chapel was locked, and we did not know where to 
go and get the key, but through the window we caught 
sight of about forty crutches in one corner of the 
building. 

There is a pilgrimage- chapel likewise just outside 
Huelgoat, dedicated to Notre Dame des Cieux, and in 
which is a statue of St. Anthony and his pig. Here, on 
May evenings, the young girls of the village come, 
dressed in white, to sing hymns to the Yirgin, having 
previously decked the sacred building with the earliest 
flowers of the year. On market-days likewise I noticed 
that the peasants, especially the older ones, lay bare 
their heads in passing it. On the day of the Pardon it 
is not unusual to see a votive offering in the shape of a 
girdle of wax, running three times round the exterior 
of the church. I saw one subsequently at the Pardon 
of the Mere de Dieu, near Quimper, but the string was 
single. Its value was about twenty- five francs. The 
last- mentioned chapel stands in a pretty, secluded 
situation, embowered in trees. A poor woman there 
told me, with tears in her eyes, that she would gladly 
give one on the following year if her prayers were 
granted. She was loath to tell the tale, which was a 



388 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



sad one ; but her daughter had been accused of forgery, 
and was then in the prison-house of Vannes. She had 
left her with five little children on her hands, to toil 
for them as best she could. The mother, in her affection, 
had brought herself to believe in the innocence of her 
daughter, and so had made a pilgrimage with mental 
vows, which she trusted she might soon fulfil. 

In company with the same Irish gentleman I walked 
one afternoon to the Pardon of Berrion, where a curious 
custom still holds. The parishioners on this day make 
offerings of butter to the church ; and the different 
contributions, being brought together, are kneaded up 
into huge blocks, somewhat in the form of elaborately- 
carved crowns, and then placed on one of the altars of 
the church. There were no less than twelve of these 
massive blocks of butter, two of them especially being 
nearly half a hundredweight, and there were altogether 
between eight hundred and a thousand pounds. It did 
not, however, present a tempting appearance. The 
admiring peasants came from time to time to kneel 
before the altar, but the butter evidently disturbed their 
devotions. Some of them, before they went away, left 
offerings of halfpence, which they stuck into the blocks. 
Others, possibly with greater regard to nicety, but 
more probably to prevent their escaping notice and 
being lost in the mass, placed small silver pieces in 
the slits of sticks, and then set them upright on the 
crowns. One of the shapes, however, had already given 
way, and was falling to pieces on the floor ; and another 
was melting from the heat ; but the money being in a 
church was sacred, and as safe as if it had been under 
lock and key. 

I asked a man who was standing near the altar how 
the proceeds of these offerings went. He told me 



5/. Peter's Fire. 



389 



it would fetch fourteen or fifteen sous the pound, and 
that one- fourth of this passed to the incumbent of the 
place. " The rest," I said, " goes, doubtless, towards 
the reparation of the church ? " but a smile and an 
incredulous jerk of the head were all the answer that 
he gave. Vespers that afternoon were considerably 
later than usual, in order to allow the people from 
a distance ample time. A large party of priests were 
dining at the presbytere, and I had a long conversation 
in the vestry with one of them, who assured me he 
would pray for my conversion to the only true faith. 
The holiday costumes of the women here were pic- 
turesque, some of them who took part in the procession 
wearing girdles of embroidered silver. 

One afternoon at Huelgoat the crier of the village 
went round with a drum, inviting contributions of sticks 
and faggots for a bonfire which was to be lighted that 
evening in honour of St. Peter. After the benediction, 
which took place at eight o'clock, a procession issued 
from the church, headed by a cross-bearer and priests, 
and followed by a crowd of people, who passed to the 
front of the market-place, where the pile was set. The 
men took off their hats, and then each of the priests 
applied a lighted taper, which soon set the faggots in 
a blaze. After burning for some time they all made 
the sign of the cross, and the procession returned to 
the church, where every one remained for a short 
time to pray. A man in the crowd then began to 
offer the ashes of the bonfire for auction, and after 
considerable bidding they were sold to a farmer for 
twenty sous. 

There is a very good bowling-green at Huelgoat on 
the shore of the lake, and there, on summer evenings, 
the former rector used to come down to play with his 



39° The Pardon of Gui?igamp. 



parishioners, and then, when the angelus sounded at 
eight o'clock, they would all lay bare their heads, and 
Monsieur le Cure would devoutly commit them to 
Protecting Care. " Dominus vobiseuni. Maria sanctis- 
sima, era pro nobis ; " repeating a short office for the 
coming night. 

There still abound in this neighbourhood a class of 
beings who are no longer to be found in towns and 
cities, and their near vicinity, having long since been 
expelled by the more daring inhabitants. They never 
seem to have looked at the priesthood in the light of 
very formidable foes, but evidently now stand in far 
greater fear of State-paid instructors, and, moreover, 
the shrill scream of the steam-engine does, perhaps, 
as much as anything to intimidate and scare them 
effectually away. It is doubtless on account of the 
seclusion, if not the beauty of the district, that the 
spirits of the departed and other ghostly tenants of 
the air still haunt this favoured spot. They love 
especially to sport by the pretty little lake, whither 
they congregate in the growing darkness, and not 
one in fifty of the inhabitants would pass along its 
shores after nightfall, especially between ten and twelve 
o'clock, for it matters not what reward. 

It was only eighteen months ago that a soldier on 
furlough had the temerity to run this fearful risk, but 
he paid dearly for his imprudence ; and when he came 
home, bruised all over and half dead with terror, he 
credibly declared that he had been forcibly transported 
out of the road into a field by the spirit of a man 
whom he had known in his lifetime, and that he was 
afterwards thrown back again from the field into the 
road. The inhabitants all positively declare that the 
vanquished son of Mars was not in the least degree in 



Superstitions. 391 



liquor, and the schoolmaster, my informant, a shrewd, 
sensible person, and anything but superstitious, looking 
fairly puzzled, confirmed the fact, not only of his ill- 
treatment, but of his perfect sobriety at the time. 

I requested him, in the presence of his scholars, to 
ask them particulars of any other unsubstantial visitors 
of which they themselves were cognizant. One of 
them, a youth of seventeen, thereupon declared that 
only a few years ago a man at Locmaria, his native 
village, a few miles distant, had been pursued in the 
evening by an unwonted apparition, and so terribly 
frightened when he returned home that he lay for 
some time at the point of death, and was only saved by 
copious bleeding. A closer questioning evinced the 
fact that this subject was to all of them a living 
reality. " We believe like the rest," said one of the 
elder ones amongst them. " But as to myself," added 
the schoolmaster, " in these things I am like St. 
Thomas." He told me that only a few years ago 
it would have been unsafe for a person not understand- 
ing Breton to go much amongst the country-people ; 
he would certainly have been ill-treated ; and he re- 
membered when a boy his own mistrust of strangers, 
and how, when once he saw a red-coat coming in the 
distance, he ran off like a hare and hid himself behind 
a hedge. 

There are many other places in Brittany where 
similar unsubstantial visitors are, or rather were, as 
I have been confidently assured by those who ought to 
know, not at all unfrequent. There is the spectre who 
rides about in a carriage, the kanairnauze, and the 
mysterious cats which run together in a troop. Then 
there is the woman who washes clothes at night, and 
calling people whom she meets by name, compels them 



392 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



by force to stop. She gives them a cloth, which is 
soaking, to wring out. If they wring it the right way 
she does them no harm, but if they turn it wrongly 
she cruelly breaks both their arms. 

A cock which crows before midnight is invariably of 
bad repute. Once upon a time there lived a labourer 
who had in his possession one of these ill-omened birds. 
Hearing it crow, he got up and said, " It will soon be 
daylight ; it is time for me to go to work." He pro- 
ceeded to his avocation, and entering a field, caught 
sight of a frightfully big man, who came up and thus 
addressed him : " How is it, my friend, you've left home 
so early ? 99 " Because," replied the labourer, " I have 
a faithful cock which crows to warn me when it's time 
to rise." " Come and fill a pipe," said the other ; " let 
us join fellowship and smoke." But whilst they were 
smoking the owner of the cock heard fearful sounds, as 
of people approaching with no good intent. Awe- 
struck and trembling, he was answered thus by the 
great man : " Never, my friend, leave your home again 
before midnight. It's the evil spirits who are making 
this terrific noise. Had they succeeded in finding you, 
they'd have strangled you without mercy. Do not, 
however, give way to fear ; you see in him who stands 
before you a preserving genius who has come to save 
you from their malicious wiles." 

If visitors such as these are still occasionally seen in 
Brittany, it is perhaps only natural that augurs and 
omens should be religiously observed. It is by no 
means an uncommon practice on Palm Sunday for a 
person to take a bough from the tree alluded to, and 
plant it in the garden. If it takes root kindly it 
portends well for the family, but if it withers and dies 
it is a certain token of some coming ill. 



Needful Times. 



393 



The preceding legends I obtained directly from the 
country-people ; the last-mentioned observance was 
told to me by a lady, one of the old inhabitants of St. 
Pol de Leon. 



NEEDFUL TIMES. 



The times are times of need, 
A phantom haunts the door, 

There's many a mouth, to feed, 
And the land is barren and poor. 

'Tis true that flesh is weak, 
But again — those needful times — 

The arm that is stout must seek 
Its living in distant climes. 

So his last his charge he shrives, 
And the aged cure smiled : 

" Whate'er betides, our lives 
Are in His hand, my child. 

" And though harvest moons refuse 
Theirs, when broad fields are won, 

Bethink thee, ne'er can lose 
The Holy Church a son. 

1 1 Hearts may be ill at ease, 
"Which stem the adverse tide, 

But not or lands or seas 
Could the true fold divide." 

He lists ; 'tis a mournful sound, 
But fate, hard fate, must be, 

Though the life of the lad is bound 
In the dear bright-eyed Stasie. 

And he says, " Ye moss-grown walls, 
Ye bowers and fields, adieu ! 

Ye rocks and ye waterfalls, 
'Tis a long farewell to you ! " 



394 The Pardon of Gtd?igamp. 



Shall he strive his grief to hide, 

Or his manly tears deny, 
When the dew-eyed limes would chide, 

And the dark-hair' d pine trees sigh ? 

Ah me ! but a lot forlorn 

For a weary age is hers, 
Whose wailing wakes the morn, 

As the drowsy hamlet stirs. 

'Tis death indeed to part ; 

Ay, death indeed ! and there 
Is more than one aching heart 

In the offing of St. Nazaire. 

And long he mused and thought, 
What now is the world to me ? 

As the sail the fresh breeze caught, 
And the ship stood out to sea. 

Eor though in her sternness, some 

Curse the dear parent soil, 
Bather to me first come, 

Thou end of a pilgrim's toil. 

Yes, still in the dreamy past, 
On shores now dim and wan, 

His moist eye linger'd last, 

As the dark, dark night came on. 

And a thousand-fold more dear 

Than ever was yet before 
Is his sea-beat Finistere, 

And his own wild Cotes du Nord. 

Nor grieving reck'd he should 

The faith of an exiled few, 
So hardly understood, 

Be scorn to a scoffing crew. 

For still with an eye of gloom 
God's fairest worlds are scann'd, 

Nor in tall cliffs which loom 
Hails he a promised land. 



Needful Tizzies. 



395 



There, when o'erwhelm'd and bow'd, 

Earth's pilgrim sees no sign; 
Behind life's darkening cloud 

Beams out no bright sunshine. 

Por how, as so oft of old, 

Can he fix the far-off goal, 
If never a Pardon hold 

Its sway on the weary soul ? 

So at times, should coldness doubt, 

He thinks of the glorious day 
When he hail'd with the throng deyout 

The shrine of St. Anne d'Auray. 

And though oft the spirit longs, 

'Tis hard, and he can no more 
Sing his sweet country's songs 

In a strange and distant shore. 

And once — the wound unheal' d — 

By labour long, beguiled, 
The sun went down in the barley-field, 

And he was again a child. 

And then, in the golden flame 

Of that beautiful after-glow, 
The reapers' chorus came 

In cadence soft and low. 

As he lay so calm and still 

In the peace of that lurid light, 
It seemed that from hill to hill 

The fire of St. John burn'd bright, 

And the priestly chant scarce ceased, 

As the smouldering embers died, 
When next at the simple feast 

One plaintive voice forth sigh'd, — 

" Oh heart forlorn ! oh love, alas ! 

Por ever alone I seem." 
And the chill dew fell on the dank hedge grass, 

And he woke, and bless'd his dream. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 



Carhaix. — The Fair. — Bargaining. — Traffic in Butter. — Hair Mer- 
chants. — Returning from the Fair. — A Future Priest. — A Breton 
Wedding. — Plouye. — The Disputation. — Ancient Customs. — My 
Introduction to the Party. — -The Cabaret. — The Ceremony. — 
Dancing. — Arrival of G-uests. — The Banquet. — My Neighbours. — 
Effects of the Good Cheer. — Soupe au Lait. — Dead for Love. 




EMOTE from populous cities, and in a thinly- 
peopled district about fifteen miles from Huel- 
goat, lies the quaint little town of Carhaix. 
Though it still enjoys a primitive reputation, the tra- 
ditionary partridges at threepence a brace, in which 
Murray, like a good Conservative, yet implicitly be- 
lieves, have long since been eaten, and you could get 
them now as cheap, if not cheaper, in Paris or in 
London. I drove over there one morning to a fair, 
having hired a place in the gig of a farmer, (who with 
his daughter sitting between us) was going for the 
purpose of buying two thousand pounds of butter from 
the country-people, and selling it again to a wholesale 
dealer at Morlaix at a profit of about a farthing, or 
perhaps a halfpenny, a pound. The business of the 
fair was not in full swing till towards twelve o'clock, 
and then the main street presented a very bustling and 
crowded appearance, and an open space at one end of 
the town was covered with upwards of a thousand head 
of cattle, and there wine and spirits, and beer and cider 
in large casks, were being briskly sold. 

Two farmers bargaining for a heifer is the most 



Breton Bargaining. 



397 



amusing sight. The owner holds out the open palm of 
his right hand, and the buyer, with his own raised high 
in the air, is continually bringing it down in close prox- 
imity to this outstretched member. All this time, they 
being both well primed with liquor, a most animated 
effort for the furtherance of their respective interests is 
going on ; and to lower the offered price a franc or so, 
or even a few sous, is the great object sought. When 
the purchaser fancies, from some slight hesitation on 
the owner's part, that he has succeeded in his attempt, 
down comes the hand with apparently overwhelming 
force ; but the other not yet giving his assent to the 
proposed reduction, its fall becomes eventually more 
gentle, and it does not strike the adversary's palm. 
After a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes of this 
close bargaining, the owner of the heifer consents, 
perhaps by silence, to the abatement of half a franc, 
and then, the buyer looking fixedly in his face, and 
hesitating yet one moment to be certain of the fact, 
down comes the hand with tremendous energy, and a 
smack which may he heard at the utmost limits of the 
crowded field. No bargaining in Brittany for anything 
important could be conducted satisfactorily except in 
this time-honoured way. The two then repair to the 
nearest public-house, where, at the vendor's expense, 
they ratify the compact over a friendly glass. 

One day at the fair at Huelgoat I stood for nearly 
half an hour watching a countryman who was bargain- 
ing for a wide-awake hat. How many half-hours he had 
already been there it w r as impossible to say, but he 
stood before the stall with the hat in his hand, now 
putting it on, and now taking it off, then lifting up the 
old one to see which was the most comfortable, and then 
again pressing down the new one on his head, turning 



398 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



it over in his hands, pinching it to feel the texture, 
rubbing the nap with his fingers, and between while 
asking for a reduction in the price. The merchant was 
neither impatient, nor did he lose his temper ; he was, 
doubtless, well accustomed to the habits of his patrons, 
and all he could do was every now and then to smooth 
the article with a brush, or take up another from the 
recesses of his stall, place it on his customer's head, and 
remark that it fitted him extremely well. The country- 
man, like everybody else so circumstanced, placed 
implicit faith in what the shopkeeper told him, but still 
he went on pinching as before, putting it on his head 
and taking it off, and soliciting a reduction of half a 
franc. Other customers in the meanwhile came and 
went, but still our prudent friend remained ; and it was 
only the near approach of dinner-time which drew me 
from the spot and prevented my observing how the 
bargain closed. 

As to the farmer with whom I had come to Carhaix, 
whenever I passed him in the street he was busily 
employed. His foreman had preceded him from Huel- 
goat in a cart full of large empty baskets, and these were 
now ranged on the pavement to be filled with the two 
thousand pounds of butter which the country-people 
brought in to sell. It came in chiefly in small quan- 
tities, and was almost invariably tied up in dirty 
pocket-handkerchiefs, more than one of which looked 
suspiciously snuffy, and had been, perhaps, a week or 
two in use. It was carefully scraped out to the last 
ounce with a knife, and then weighed by the foreman, 
after which it was thrown into the basket and the 
owner paid. It sometimes happened that a lump of it 
fell down into the dirt ; this, of course, was picked up, 
and the superficial offensiveness brushed off, and then 



Household L uxuries. 3 99 



the foreman pressed it down into the receptacle with 
his bare arms, clearing himself afterwards from the 
adhering morsels, which were likewise added to the 
rising mass. The butter was of every shade, from a very 
light to a dark yellow, and occasionally half melting 
from the heat ; and a stranger ignorant of the commo- 
dity would have had some little difficulty in believing 
that the greasy substance before him was intended as a 
relish to the food of man. 

It was destined, however, to be well disguised. I 
had passed through the warehouse of a wholesale butter 
dealer when at Morlaix, having been attracted into it 
by curiosity, mistaking it at first for a bakery ; and 
notwithstanding the warning of the old proverb of what 
the eye doesn't view, I thought it perhaps as well to 
know the worst. Nine or ten hulking fellows of the 
average cleanness of journeymen bakers were standing 
round a counter kneading lustily, with their bare arms, 
into a mountain of unsightly grease mixed with salt. 
All the shades of colour were being well incorporated 
into one coherent body, and after long and careful 
manipulation, a bright yellow fluid, poured generously 
into it, converted the substance into a well-looking, 
homogeneous mass. This crowning operation hushed 
up the story of dust and dirt, unwashed hands, filthy 
coppers, and stale pocket-handkerchiefs. It was now 
packed into tubs and casks, and ready for exportation 
to England, and various unsuspecting parts of France. 

The population of Garhaix is about two thousand five 
hundred. It presents a somewhat quaint appearance, and 
has still several timber-faced houses, with projecting 
fronts and old wood-carvings ; but these, as elsewhere, 
are now being gradually swept away. It was the birth- 
place of De la Tour d' Auvergne, the valiant soldier, who, 



400 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



refusing every offer of promotion, preferred the honour- 
able title of "Premier Grenadier de France." His 
statue stands in the little Place at one extremity of the 
town ; and the young peasants coming in to the fair, who 
have never yet seen anything like it, stand under the 
pedestal and gaze at it with an astonishment almost 
amounting to awe. Seated on a bench in this place, I was 
watching the cattle-drivers leading in their beasts, when 
I saw steering clearly up to me from the opposite corner 
two women and a man, who forthwith proceeded to the 
business which had brought them. " Monsieur is, I 
believe, a hair merchant," said the latter ; " this woman 
tells me you have been making inquiry after us ; we 
can supply you to-day with any quantity you like." 
I explained to them I was simply a traveller, and being 
anxious to see the young girls parting with their locks, 
had asked the spot where it was probable the operation 
would be performed. " Oh! I understand," replied the 
man; "I fancied from your question you must have 
been of our calling. At one o'clock in a side street 
leading out from the principal thoroughfare you will 
find us in the pursuit of our trade." 

Soon after that time, making my way to the locality 
indicated, I found a brisk commerce going on. It was 
not, however, merely young girls, but women of all 
ages, who came to sell what in other countries is justly 
considered one of the most attractive personal orna- 
ments which Nature has conferred upon their sex ; but 
as in Brittany the hair is almost invariably concealed 
under a tight-fitting cap, the loss of it is in reality 
scarcely felt. In one respect the operation might be 
considered an advantage, for as a toothcomb is a thing 
unknown, and as they probably from one year's end to 
another never wash their hair, this temporary removal 



The Hair Merchant. 401 

ought in the summer-time to create rather a sense of 
comfort than otherwise ; for it must be confessed that 
though I watched at least a dozen undergoing the 
ordeal, I did not see out of that number more than one 
clean head. I asked one of the girls, who only spoke 
Breton, through the medium of the merchant, what 
ic the young man" would say when he found her in that 
state ; to which she made reply, " II m/embrassera tout 
de meme." Indeed, their cropped condition did not 
altogether extinguish their charms in the eyes of one of 
the younger dealers, apparently a bachelor ; for an occa- 
sional pause in the course of the process afforded him a 
good opportunity to give some favoured client a very 
gentle pull on her ruddy cheeks. 

He was, however, ungallant enough, like his older 
brother craftsmen, to condescend to bargaining, and in 
this respect was inexorably severe. They professed to 
offer for an ordinary head of hair about five or six francs, 
but they generally gave the value in a yard or two of 
calico, with a cotton pocket-handkerchief. One old 
peasant came up with his daughter, and in addition to 
the ordinary handkerchief, wanted seven francs for an 
unusually fine crop of very long hair. As the merchant 
refused the price demanded, and the man was evidently 
about to give in, it appeared to me such a glaring 
attempt at imposition that I assured him it seemed to 
me he had asked no more than its real worth ; where- 
upon he had the resolution to decline the dealer's offer, 
and walked away with his daughter from the somewhat 
humiliating scene. 

This traffic in hair must be a profitable business, for 
one of the merchants confessed to me of his own accord 
that he had made a great deal of money the previous 
twelvemonth. He was very jealous,however, of one of 

D D 



402 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

his rivals, because lie offered half a franc or so more for 
the article than himself. It takes about four years 
after a girl has been shorn before she can produce a 
second crop sufficiently long for the market ; and several 
of them told me this was already the second or third 
time they had thus parted with their hair. 

On our way home we were overtaken by several 
farmers on horseback, many of them unable to guide 
their steeds. One in particular, catching sight of us, 
hurried on to speak to his Huelgoat acquaintance, but 
the latter wishing to dispense with his attentions (for 
a drunken Breton, when once he begins talking to you, 
fastens on like a leech), bent down in the gig and turned 
up the collar of his coat, to try, though unsuccessfully, 
to elude observation. Whipping his horse, he attempted 
to distance him, but the other again came close up, 
though after a few moments, losing ground, he soon 
measured his full length in the road. He managed 
somehow to right himself, and swaying to and fro in his 
saddle, left himself to the instincts of his sagacious beast, 
who wonderfully kept clear of the heap of stones against 
which every now and then he came. It was astonish- 
ing how the man retained his seat at all ; we saw he 
had at least one other tumble, though in spite of this he 
managed to get ahead of us, and when more than half- 
way home we passed his horse riderless near the door 
of a public-house on the roadside. 

Francose, the familiar appellation by which my driver 
was know T n at Huelgoat, being a corruption of Fran- 
cois, his real name, was now a very substantial man 
and a landowner, having risen from small beginnings in 
early life, and he told me, though it was not generally 
believed to be the case, that the Breton farmers as a 
rule were very rich (some of them, indeed, conceal their 



A Future Priest. 



403 



money in the earth) ; nor, in the course of conversation, 
did he fail to have his fling at the priests, who, he 
assured me, made a good living out of the people ; and 
he related an incident of a woman with a rental of fif- 
teen hundred francs who recently died at a neighbour- 
ing town not twenty miles off. The confessor, he de- 
clared, frightened her on her death- bed into leaving 
half her fortune for the restoration of the church ; but 
her heirs, to the number of fifty, were now disputing 
the will, on the plea of her being in second childhood 
at the time. 

One of his nephews, he added, was chaplain on board 
a man-of-war, but he had been a great deal in hot 
climates, and was at present drinking the waters of 
Vichy for his health. A son of his also, a lad of four- 
teen, had an unmistakable predilection for the Church. 
" He is now at school at Pont Croix/ ' said the farmer ; 
"he is well known to all the priests for miles round 
Huelgoat, and they are very fond of him, for he is far 
above his years, and can speak on any subject you like 
to mention, from the creation of the world to the 
patriarchs. If he hears any one say bad words, or talk 
on forbidden themes, although he is very small, he'll 
draw himself up to his full height, and stamp his little 
feet and frown at them, and ask them what they mean 
by giving utterance to such folly. Sometimes they do 
so purposely in order to hear him speak ; for, notwith- 
standing that he is only fourteen, he's as advanced as any 
young man of twenty-five. He invariably says his 
prayers before he goes to bed, and he sleeps with his 
rosary by his side. Oh, he'll make a beautiful priest, 
if he only continues in the same mind ! " 

In a few days from this time was to be celebrated at 
Plouye, about six miles from Huelgoat, one of those 



404 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

elaborate fetes so characteristic of the country and its 
inhabitants, and which here at least, in these out-of-the- 
way districts, whilst other customs are gradually passing 
away, still bear the impress of remoter ages, and have 
lost but little of the joyousness and circumstance with 
which they were attended in the times of their fore- 
fathers, when the good Duchess Anne still ruled an 
independent state. When I spoke to Francose of my 
anxiety to be present at this wedding, both he and his 
daughter endeavoured to persuade me to give up the 
idea. They said as I was not known in the neighbour- 
hood, and could not speak the language, I might find it 
disagreeable ; the young men would begin to look in an 
unfriendly way at me as a stranger ; they would knit 
their brows and say, " What business has he amongst 
us ?" and they would grind their teeth and swear ; and 
as those from one commune, on becoming heated with 
liquor, often begin to fight with those of another, I 
should find myself somewhat awkwardly placed. Four 
hundred persons and upwards had been invited, and 
three casks of wine, four of cider, and half a cask of 
brandy had been liberally provided for the feast. 

I said that perhaps Mr. A., who was well known 
in the neighbourhood, would be glad to come, where- 
upon Francose assured me that would only make mat- 
ters worse, as Mr. A. might be assaulted, not being at 
all popular amongst the people in that district, because 
he had so often trespassed on their land. This gentle- 
man, indeed, had himself informed me that he had 
more than once been attacked with stones by the men of 
Plouye ; though this, perhaps, was not altogether surpris- 
ing, as naturally they did not like to see his dogs running 
through their fields. Finding, however, I still continued 
bent on seeing it, the farmer told me I could not pos- 



We start for the Wedding. 405 



sibly go alone, but that I must be accompanied by some 
one who understood the language ; and he added that 
he knew a young man at Huelgoat who had been in- 
vited, that he would speak to him about taking me, and 
I should then be in the position of a bidden guest. I 
had not, of course, originally meant that I wanted to 
intrude myself on a private party, but merely that I was 
anxious to see as much of the festivity as could be ob- 
served by a stranger with propriety at a reasonable 
distance ; but the suggestion thus made to be introduced 
as a guest was too good an opportunity to be lost, and 
both the farmer and his daughter now changing their 
tone, assured me that the people would be very glad to 
see me. 

The next evening I met the "young man" at the 
house of Francose. He was a bachelor of fifty, and not 
a very promising chaperon, as he spoke scarcely any- 
thing but Breton, and his rolling, bloodshot eyes and 
idiotic expression of countenance betrayed his recent 
predilections. I should have been glad, therefore, to have 
met with some more satisfactory interpreter, but could 
hear of no one else who had been asked. On the morn- 
ing of the wedding I called at his house about seven 
o'clock, the time we had fixed upon to start, but he was 
still in bed. His sister, however, who, it appeared, 
had also been invited, went straightway to call him, and 
after putting on his holiday attire and getting ready the 
horse and cart, and lifting two chairs into the vehicle, 
he announced himself ready to proceed, and we there- 
upon set out for the scene of the festivity. Soon after 
leaving Huelgoat we diverged from the high-road into 
lanes and by-ways, and in about an hour and a half, in 
a secluded situation low down in a hollow, away from the 
influences of the outer world, and likely to remain so 



406 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



for another century, we found ourselves at the threshold 
of an old Breton farm. 

Besides two small houses close to it, there was 
no appearance whatever of any other habitation near. 
The approach to the three was by a very indifferent 
path, and the space between them was a mass of mud 
and litter and manure. The father of the bridegroom, 
nevertheless, was a thriving proprietor. His house 
consisted of only two apartments, one of which was a 
species of cellar and depository for lumber of every 
sort, and the other, which opened directly into it, though 
serving the purpose of kitchen and dormitory, was 
anything but large, with an uneven clay floor, but it 
contained several very handsome carved old cupboard 
beds, and a good dresser, while a spacious fire-place, 
round which on winter evenings are told marvellous 
stories in the Breton language, occupied the further 
end. 

We were, unfortunately, somewhat late, for the firing 
of pistols announced that the demande, or the asking in 
marriage, and the disputation between the bazvalan and 
the breutaer had just been concluded. The former, 
though not always now a genuine matchmaker, speaks 
on a variety of subjects — for instance, on the Scripture 
characters of patriarchal times ; and he is loud in 
praise of the good qualities of the young man, his client, 
in whose grasp the penn-baz is every whit as powerful 
as a sword. The latter, on the other hand, declares 
that they are not going to throw away such a pro- 
mising virgin on every one who presumes to ask for 
her. Who is more beautiful, more industrious than 
she ? Who knits more skilfully ? Who carries to town 
more gracefully the milk, which she has expressed with 
her own hands ? Who, finally, dances more chastely, 



Ancient Customs. 



407 



and at the same time more seductively, than this lovely 
maid ? After the disputer has presented successfully 
to the bazvalan an old woman, a blooming widow, and 
a young girl, neither of whom is the one he seeks, the 
real object of his client's affections is brought to him, 
and he then represents to the mother of the bride that 
she is about to lose her daughter for ever : is she 
certain that the young man to whom she gives her will 
make her happy? And the great aim in this disputation 
is to bring tears to the eyes of her who is principally 
addressed. 

Among the wealthier farmers it is not often now the 
bazvalan who is sent in the first place to negotiate the 
conditions of marriage between two contracting parties ; 
they are made as frequently by the friends themselves, 
and the bazvalan in this instance was personified more, 
perhaps, for the keeping up of old traditions than for 
any other cause. In certain districts, and until a very 
recent period (though it may possibly be the custom in 
some cantons still), when that functionary made his 
appearance on a farm, the housewife, divining his 
mission, would proceed to put a frying-pan on the fire 
and prepare an omelette. If the proposal was well 
received, the family would sit down with the ambassador 
to eat it, but if the mother disapproved of the alliance 
for her daughter, in order to spare the pain of a verbal 
refusal, she would throw the omelette out of doors. 
The progress and conclusion of every important contract 
among the ancient Celts, as more than one old Roman 
writer tells us, was accompanied by eating and drink- 
ing ; and if the bazvalan, on entering a house, took 
up a glass and requested it to be filled with cider, the 
refusal of the farmer's wife to give him any was like- 
wise to be interpreted as an unfavourable sign. 



408 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



When matters have been satisfactorily arranged, and 
the affair talked over at the public-house ; after glasses 
have been filled, and jingled one against the other as 
the highest token of friendship and good- will ; and just 
before the lawyer signs the necessary papers, the two 
families, accompanied by the intermediary, make alter- 
nate visits to each other's houses, to take note of their 
goods and chattels, for mutual satisfaction. An inven- 
tory is then made of furniture, of linen, of utensils, of 
cider, of cattle, and of stock in general ; and often, when 
the families are comparative strangers to one another, 
the dwellings, for the day, are furtively adorned with 
borrowed goods, nothing being more deceptive than it 
is possible, by unscrupulous parties, to make this 
Gwelader, or visit for inspection of each other's farms. 

The marriage being finally decided upon, about a 
fortnight before the day fixed for the wedding, a cere- 
mony takes place, the Fete de l'Armoire, on the occasion 
of bringing the wardrobe into the house of the bride's 
or bridegroom's father, at whichever of the two the 
newly-married couple have fixed upon to reside. Dif- 
ferent districts have their own peculiar customs. Thus, 
in some parts of Leon, a discourse in verse similar to 
that given in a previous chapter is recited. In others, 
again, the doors being shut, the friends of the young 
girl ask, at the window, how the piece of furniture is 
to be admitted into the house. The spokesman for the 
bridegroom hereupon declares that it is much better to 
allow it to be brought in quietly, otherwise it must be 
introduced by force. When at last, after considerable 
haranguing on either side, the door is opened, the 
visitors are admitted, bearing in their hands their 
various presents, some of them destined for the wedding 
feast. 



Overpowered with Questions. 409 

On entering the house I was introduced by my 
chaperon to the party assembled, and amongst them 
was the mayor of Plouye, a tall, handsome, elderly 
peasant, with long flowing hair. In one corner of the 
room a number of men were eating and drinking, and I 
was at once invited to partake, but at the same time 
overpowered with questions as to who I was. My 
" young man" had been instructed by Francose, I do 
not know for what reason, to represent me to the 
company as a friend from Morlaix ; but their Breton 
shrewdness was not quite satisfied, and I was asked, with 
some degree of sharpness, how it was I came from 
Morlaix and could not speak their language. Upon 
this I answered that though I had recently come to 
Huelgoat from that place, I was not a native, but from 
a considerable distance ; in fact, I was an Englishman. 
Many questions about my country were thereupon put 
to me. " I suppose/' said one of them, " that your 
marriages are celebrated very much like ours — you go 
^0 the mairie for the civil ceremony P" I told him we 
were contented with the religious portion, and that all 
of it was concluded at the church. On this he became 
very angry, and said it was a villainous omission not to 
go before the mayor. 

In about twenty minutes we set out, through shady 
lanes, for the hamlet of Plouye, about a mile and a half 
distant ; the bridegroom, accompanied by his young men, 
to the number of ten or twelve, leading the way, and 
the bride, with the same number of female attendants, 
following, though not closely, in his wake. The rest of 
the company came on behind. Immediately beyond 
the house, and at intervals on the road to the hamlet, 
"barricades" had been thrown across our path by 
enterprising children ; these were simply cords, adorned 



4 1 o The Pardon of Guingamp. 

with ribbons, and people in passing were expected to 
pay toll. 

As for the bride, she was attired in the black cloth of 
the country, the skirt of her dress being bordered with 
a deep row of pink silk, and above it another of black 
velvet, edged with the same material. Round her 
waist she wore a very handsome girdle, dotted all over 
with dazzling spangles, and edged with deep silver 
lace. On her head she had a large white cap, with 
flowing lappets, and a bodice of the same colour round 
her waist. One or two of her attendant bridesmaids 
were almost identically attired. The young men wore 
the costume of Leon, the black serge collarless jackets, 
with silver spangles, and vests to match, and broad felt 
hats, with velvet trimmings, looking very picturesque. 
Arrived at the hamlet, which is a cluster of some half- 
a-dozen mean houses, with the rectory and mairie as 
comparative mansions, my chaperon gave me a hint 
that a glass or two of wine would not be unacceptable, 
so I invited the mayor and his brother-in-law to join us. 
The landlord, to whom I was introduced, was the deputy 
magistrate, a repulsive, dirty man, as dirty in every 
way as his house. He was stupid with drink, and began 
in a somewhat authoritative tone to ply me with ques- 
tions as to where I came from, and what was my 
business in this country ; but although they endea- 
voured to explain the matter to him, he appeared quite 
unable to understand. 

When the wine was finished we adjourned to the 
church, where the ceremony was already going on. 
There was nothing especial in this to note. Just before 
its conclusion two of the young men came to lead back 
the bridegroom from the altar, and two of the brides- 
maids came similarly to conduct the bride. Another 



Dancing in Old Times. 411 

adjournment, though not of the actual party, was then 
made to the public-house, where one of the guests 
from Loqueffret riveted the attention of his companions 
by an account of a murder recently committed there 
by a peasant, who in revenge had felled another from 
his horse. After remaining here about half an hour it 
was proposed that we should return to the scene of the 
festivity, and all except those immediately concerned 
soon afterwards set out. 

There had been some talk of a dance on the space 
between the mairie and the church ; it did not, how- 
ever, take place. It is only comparatively of recent 
years that the custom of beginning the dance imme- 
diately on leaving the church has fallen into disuse. 
The priest himself often gave the signal for its com- 
mencement to the sound of the bagpipe, from the foot 
of the calvaire, for in Brittany this exercise long 
retained the traces of its early religious character, and 
Sunday was the great day devoted to its pursuit. It 
was even in some parts carried on in churches, and 
oftentimes continued until night. Still, from the re- 
motest times, the abuse of this indulgence must have 
been apparent, for as far back as the fifth century a 
council held at Vannes forbade the presence of the 
clergy at wedding feasts. 

Before leaving Plouye one curious custom may be 
mentioned, which (though unconnected with the subject) 
is, as one of the people from the neighbourhood told 
me, still observed. The eight men who on the day of 
the Pardon bear the sacred relics and other insignia in 
the procession do so invariably with whitened hair. 

By the time we reached the farmhouse the general 
guests were beginning to assemble : a few of them 
came on horseback, and a certain individual in a long 



4 1 2 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



cloak had very much the appearance of a Spanish don. 
One young man, who had introduced himself as a friend 
of my guide, invited me to come over to his father- 
in-law's house, one of the other two adjacent to the 
chief. Here people were drinking wine and cider, for it 
proved to be the residence of the bride, and I was 
pressed so hard to partake of the refreshment that to 
acknowledge their hospitality I made show of putting 
something to my lips. I was anxious, however, to see 
the return of the newly-married couple, whose arrival 
was to be greeted by the firing of pistols and the 
lighting of a bundle of straw on the summit of a pole. 
My companion informed me he had only himself been 
married a few months, and he gave me to understand 
that his wife, for good looks, could stand comparison 
with any woman in the company ; whereupon I asked 
to be allowed to make her acquaintance whenever he 
could find her out. 

A considerable time elapsed before the party made 
their appearance, and after an interval of half an 
hour, the more immediate actors in the scene began 
the festivity by dancing a gavotte. In the absence of 
musicians, whom one would fully have expected at 
such an extensive gathering, two young men beginning 
to sing, beat the ground slowly with their feet ; others 
then gradually joined them, including the newly- 
married couple, until a tolerably long string was 
formed. The dance consisted in moving round in time 
in two chains, like an elongated form of the figure 
eight, and then pairing off, the men at the same moment 
throwing up their feet behind. The step was not 
acquired without considerable practice, and it was 
really very gracefully and well performed. After a 
second set had been gone through, the company having 



Preparations for the Feast* 413 



now, to the number of about four hundred, nearly all 
arrived, they began to arrange themselves for dinner. 
Two oxen had been killed for the occasion, and a pro- 
portionate number of calves, for veal in Brittany is a 
standing dish, and this does not seem at all out of the 
way when the number of guests is taken into considera- 
tion, and the fact that the feasting continues for four 
or five days. 

A series of parallel trenches had been dug in a field 
close by, and on the elevations caused by the throwing 
up of the earth were laid down boards which served 
as tables. The guests were a long time forming into 
position, and after considerable delay the repast began. 
The bride and bridegroom were seated opposite to one 
another at the head of the outer row. This license, 
however, is a modern innovation on an old-established 
custom, which kept the newly-married pair compara- 
tively apart until the third day ; and the women, as 
a rule, used formerly to take their meals at a different 
table from the men. It w T as likewise considered a 
disgraceful breach of etiquette for the young man to 
get drunk before the expiration of that period, and I 
was told that in some places the first three nights are 
still consecrated to St. Joseph and St. Mary. 

The opening course in the banquet was vegetable 
soup, a tureen of which was placed between every half- 
a-dozen people, who, as no plates were handed round, 
helped themselves at discretion from the bowl. 

Each one was expected to bring his own instruments 
of attack, and a neighbour, seeing that I was not pro- 
vided, obligingly handed me a metal spoon. There 
would have been a want of politeness in not following 
the general example, and trying as it was, I put the 
best face on the matter, and pronounced it very good. 



4H 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



The entertainment had begun by the firing of a pistol, 
and a similar ceremony was supposed to announce the 
commencement of every course. The wine and cider 
were handed round without stint, and some one next to 
me made the appropriate remark, "In this country a 
feast is estimated in proportion to the number of per- 
sons drunk ; every one will soon be in that condition." 
It was, indeed, all I could do to refuse filling my 
glass as often as the rest, for they were importunately 
pressing, and my chaperon, who sat opposite me, even 
became angry, as his eyes began to roll, when he found 
I did not sufficiently do my duty in this respect. My 
immediate neighbours likewise began without restraint 
to pass their reflections upon the priesthood and the 
Church. One old man had his doubts upon a certain 
doctrine, which he said was incredible ; and another, 
almost the only one in the dress of a citizen, and who 
I found was from Huelgoat, remarked that the Pro- 
testant creed was much purer than the Catholic : the 
people, he said, though devotees, had no true religion. 
He had been to the Evangelical chapel at I/Orient, 
and was much pleased with the manner in which the 
service was performed. I did not, however, encourage 
the conversation, but simply listened to what they had 
to say. 

The next course consisted of stewed tripe, very finely 
cut, but having an aversion to this dish, which I have 
only once tasted, I had the strength of mind to resist 
it, on the plea that I was going to reserve myself for 
the beef. 

" Faithful to his ancient cookery," says Perron, " as 
to all the customs which legislation and the force of 
circumstances do not effectually attack, the Breton 
esteems infinitely more the ordinary and traditional 



Tempting Morsels. 



415 



dishes, which for him constitute the real wedding feast, 
than the rarest meats which could possibly be procured. 
You will vaunt to him in vain the most exquisite pro- 
ductions of the country — the partridges of Carhaix, the 
ortolans of Crozon, the oysters of Tudy, and other 
portions of Armorica, which were already two thousand 
years ago renowned amongst the gourmands of Rome ; 
those fresh and delicate fish, to which, amongst other 
things, the market of Quimper owes its celebrity ; the 
juicy rabbits of Beniguet, which Louis XV., so dainty 
in his tastes, received from the Governor of Brittany 
with all the satisfaction of an epicure ; those fruits, 
again, and vegetables, which, in several districts, the 
perfection of culture has, so to speak, created anew, 
so highly have they been improved. The richest, no 
less than the poorest, votary of the gastronomic art 
places foremost in his catalogue of good things his 
tripes, his coarse pudding, and his baked meats, so 
utterly insipid to the taste. The culinary chiefs of the 
country would lose their reputation in seeking to alter, 
by rash innovations, this national and uniform course 
of cookery, and their skill is above all applauded by 
reason of their religiously conforming to the established 
state of things." 

After a long interval there came a course of stewed 
veal, to eat my share of which I had unfortunately no 
knife. My neighbour, however, obligingly cut me a 
slice with his, and when I had finished it he pressed 
me with a morsel on his own fork, I pulled off a piece 
which hung clear of the prongs, but he soon afterwards 
with great good-nature handed me the instrument 
itself. " Prenez done ma fourchette," said he ; but I 
thanked him politely, and assured him I had had 
enough. The course which followed was boiled beef, 



4i6 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



and then butter and brandy were handed round. The 
feast had now lasted upwards of an hour, and there 
was yet another course in store ; but time was prudently 
given for digestion, and the company for the present 
got up to dance. 

During the interval the people who had served us, 
to the number of about fifty, sat down to partake. 
Many of these were friends of the host, for at a wedding 
it is considered rather a distinction than otherwise for 
a guest to stand and serve. A rich employer, more- 
over, looks on his labourers in the same light as he 
does on his own family ; so much so, that even a land- 
owner will not unfrequently put out his son as a servant 
on an extensive farm. In the dress of the men here 
there was not the slightest difference, and it would 
have been impossible to distinguish between labourer 
and employer ; nor was there the least appearance of 
vulgarity in their bearing. As long as they were 
sober there was a dignity in their carriage which was 
very striking, and when joining in the dance there 
was as much solemnity as though they were en- 
gaging in a pious rite. We have seen, indeed, how 
this recreation in Brittany was looked upon in remoter 
ages as a necessary adjunct to religious meetings ; and 
it must be confessed the people were never disinclined 
to the prompt performance of this portion of their 
duty. An ancient Breton song has thus recorded their 
fidelity to this national predilection : " Faudrait-il tra- 
verser Tenfer, elles iraient danser." 

No sooner was the principal portion of the dinner 
over than the displacement of the fluids from their 
original strongholds began sensibly to affect the gait 
of the sterner sex. One man took it into his head to 
attempt an almost interminable conversation with me, 



Seated in State. 



417 



but his speech was so incoherent I was obliged to say 
" Yes " to everything without understanding a single 
word. Another insisted on taking my umbrella and 
holding it, not over his own head, but over mine, for 
it had begun to rain. It was rather absurd, but he 
soon gave it back, and thanked me for it as if I had 
been doing him the greatest favour. 

My chaperon now came with wild and rolling eyes 
to ask me if I would like to return home, and I told 
him yes ; whereupon he said he would be ready in half 
an hour. At the expiration of that time I went to 
look for him, and found him in the house with his 
sister anticipating the ensuing course. The grandfather 
and grandmother of the bridegroom were seated near 
the chimney-piece in state. I was very much pressed 
to partake of the roti, and I envied their powers of 
digestion accordingly. More meat, however, would 
have been a sheer impossibility ; so in self-defence, to 
satisfy this elderly " young man," whose maudlin 
importunity became a perfect nuisance, I took a piece 
of bread to appear to be eating, and filled a little glass 
with cider.. Whilst at this course an old man staggered 
into the room helplessly drunk, and it was evident 
that before very long the majority of the guests would 
be in the same condition, for the wine and cider were 
in the field under a shed, and open freely to every 
comer ; besides which, they would keep up the gaiety 
till midnight. The mayor, however, it must be said, 
up to the time I left, had set a praiseworthy example 
of abstemiousness ; and the old man, with his honest, 
open countenance and almost aristocratic bearing, might 
have been the dignified magistrate of many a more 
important place. 

As the intemperate indulgence in strong drink is 

E E 



4 1 8 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

not, amongst the peasants of Brittany, looked upon as a 
fault, but is considered as the natural and most fitting 
response to the liberal hospitality of an open house, it 
is no libel on mistaken generosity to say, that frequently 
in these social gatherings the fairer sex forget them- 
selves equally with the men ; and I have been told by 
a most trustworthy person that he has seen on their 
way back, even from a Pardon, scores of women un- 
steady in the road. It is not astonishing if the young 
men of one commune occasionally try their strength 
with those of another ; and in default of the penn-baz, 
which of course, on such occasions, was always left 
behind them, they have been known to take up empty 
bottles as instruments of attack. In this respect they 
have lost none of the courage of olden times, when the 
Romans, astonished at their frantic ardour, involun- 
tarily exclaimed, " How terrible are those Bretons 
when they raise their war-cry, Torr-e-benn ! ' Break 
his head/ " 

It must be confessed that when in this condition 
they are not in the very fittest state to take part in the 
concluding portion of the ceremony, though fortunately 
the coarser customs which used to wind up the ad- 
vancing hours are everywhere falling rapidly into 
disuse. On this occasion, as I was subsequently in- 
formed, the soupe au lait was given before the newly- 
married pair retired, though formerly it was taken to 
them in the cupboard-bed ; but this, they said, gave 
rise to such quarrelling and fighting, especially as it 
could only be seen by a few, and it made the guests 
tarry so late, that the discontinuance of the custom 
was desirable on this account, if for no other cause. 
A woman born at Vannes once told me that in her 
own neighbourhood, after the soupe au lait has been 



Old Weddmg Customs. 419 



given, the bride does what she can to make her escape. 
If her bridesmaids succeed in catching her they lead 
her back to her husband ; if not, she retires to pass the 
night with some female friend. 

There was something grand and striking in the cir- 
cumstances preceding the taking of the bread and milk 
to the newly-married pair — a curious mingling of piety 
with levity ; for, following on a deathlike stillness, 
which for an instant superseded the merriment in the 
waning night, were wont to rise up and swell the 
solemn echoes of the Veni Creator, led by one of the 
ancients of the house ; and this concluded, the sop was 
carried into the room by four of the most spirited 
young men, when peals of boisterous laughter succeeded 
to the chanting, as the hapless pair, exposed to the 
ridicule of the prying crowd, endeavoured in vain to 
convey the milk to their mouths in spoons which had 
been treacherously pierced. 

Other and yet grosser jokes were frequently perpe- 
trated at the bride's expense ; but happily one does 
not now hear of their being much performed. A less 
objectionable custom was to put little children dressed 
in white, as emblems of innocence and of guardian 
angels, into the different corners of the bed. In some 
districts I was told they now give them cakes and 
brandy on retiring to rest, and the soupe au lait on the 
succeeding morning. The groomsman and his brides- 
maid used frequently to sit up with them till the day- 
light broke, or leave them only when the candles which 
they held in their hands burnt low. 

We read in ancient days how, after the slaughter of 
the Ammonites, the daughter of Jephthah, in company 
with her fellows, went out upon the mountains to 
bewail all bitterly her deserted state, and that the 



4-20 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



daughters of Israel, in like manner, went ever afterwards 
to lament the lonely Gileadite four days in the year. 
For a contrary reason used the Breton virgins, in the 
olden time, to weep within the chamber of their fellow 
all the night. 



MOET D'AMOUK. 



Once, once, I madly loved ; but ah, 

This broken heart of mine ! 
Eor her now faithless and afar 

All hopelessly I pine. 

The eye grows dim which shrinks to feel 

The fuller blaze of day ; 
And that which cannot quickly heal 

The wound it makes, must slay. 

Dear child ! for dear thou still shalt be, 

Of ill-starr'd troth in spite, 
Not so in earth, or air, or sea, 

Theirs, living things requite. 

The ring-dove, when the thirsty rose 

Yearns for the twilight dew, 
Nor doubt, nor thought uncertain knows — 

His sweetest heart is true. 

Poor youth and luckless ! fate is hard : 

Yes, mourn for him, he cries, 
When sleeping in the cold churchyard, 

Of cruel love who dies. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 



Wedding Customs. — An Important Member of Society. — Departure for 
Chateaulin. — Hotel-keepers. — Old Social Laws. — Another Wed- 
ding. — Provisions. — Bridegroom's Procession — Bagpipes. — Cos- 
tumes, — The Exhortation. — Feasting. — The Gavotte. — The Rector. 
— A Controversialist. — Sonnet. 

T is not at every such extensive gathering, 
though four or five hundred people be invited, 
that all of them are necessarily guests. It is 
frequently the case that they are expected to bring their 
money with them, and pay for the entertainment in the 
same manner as if they had been dining at an inn. 
The custom, however, is not considered at all deroga- 
tory ; and among the less wealthy peasants it is very 
generally done. We saw in a previous chapter how, 
the first or second day after the wedding, the guests ex- 
change their gay apparel for the attire of grief, and 
join in dismal masses for the souls of departed friends. 
This service for the dead most usually takes place on the 
fourth day, whilst that preceding, as was the case on 
this occasion, is the " jour des pauvres." Hundreds of 
beggars, and of poor in general, find their way to the 
scene of the recent festivity, and assist in saving the 
remnants of the wedding feast. The bride and bride- 
groom are themselves the most assiduous in waiting on 
their guests, and at the gavotte which follows the con- 
clusion of the banquet they both of them choose their 
partners from out this motley throng. Miracles on this 
occasion, it is said, are not unfrequent. The blind man 



422 



The Pardon of Gui?igamp. 



has been known to recover his sight, and point on the 
table to some dainty morsel ; the deaf man has heard 
the invitation given him to drink ; and the lame with 
alacrity has thrown aside his crutches, and mingled 
gaily in the stirring dance. 

How long all these time- honoured customs will sur- 
vive in this age of social revolution it would be difficult 
with any certainty to conjecture. The coarser portions 
which formerly disgraced these mirthful assemblies 
ha ve happily, in most places, become nearly, if not quite, 
extinct. If they could now only be weeded of their 
chief objection, the drunkenness which almost invariably 
attends them, they have still more than sufficient ori- 
ginality in their celebration to make them picturesque 
and poetic in this eminently prosaic age. If the reader 
is not already tired of the subject he shall be conducted 
shortly to another extensive wedding, which, as it was 
in some respects superior to the last, may not altogether 
be devoid of interest. 

Before leaving Huelgoat, however, he must be intro- 
duced in form to a most important personage in that 
pretty little place ; one who, in the absence of a resident 
doctor, plays a prominent part in the not least intricate 
branch of medical practice. The reputation of her 
class has happily improved of recent years, but fearful 
are the stories told of the ruthless way in which, in 
darker ages, these brutal women, ignorant of the most 
necessary principles of their calling, were wont to 
accomplish their trying task. Terrible has been the 
suffering inflicted, and many the lives which have been 
sacrificed by unlicensed and obscure practitioners ; but 
times are altered, and these unskilful hags have, as a 
rule, given place to a vastly superior order of beings, 
who prosecute their labours now with as much humanity 



A Cunning L andlord. 423 



as success. Esteemed and looked up to as she ought to 
be ; of middle age ; neat in her attire ; portly in her 
demeanour ; and withal a thriving, buxom woman, is the 
sage-femme of unsophisticated Huelgoat. 

Some little time before taking my departure from the 
village, I had expressed my intention to the landlord 
of hiring a cabriolet to convey me to Chateaulin, a dis- 
tance of some twenty miles. The recklessness of small 
Breton innkeepers with regard to their horses, and 
therefore to their own interests, is a matter for not un- 
natural surprise. The man had asked me to give him 
timely notice of the day I intended starting, in order 
that the animal might be fresh for the work. For his 
own accommodation I was to have left at seven o'clock, so 
that his son, who was to drive me, might return to Huel- 
goat the same night. On calling me at five o'clock, 
however, he asked me if I would have any objection to 
put off breakfast for half an hour, as he had an order to 
prepare a meal at that time for another guest. The 
pretext soon became evident ; for his wife, seeing me 
waiting, assured me that this guest was only going to 
take a cup of coffee, and I then ascertained of my driver 
that the animal, which was a good one, had already 
that morning been at plough two hours, and was taking 
rest. With a long day's run of forty miles before him, 
thus to have worked a young horse freely was, in prin- 
ciple, very much like the killing of the goose for the 
sake of the golden egg. 

On the other hand, to spare their horses, the better 
class of hotel-keepers will not hesitate to defraud the 
Government, and run considerable pecuniary risk. I 
remember once hiring a cabriolet, the owner of which, 
when we were about to start, came up and asked me if 
I would have any objection to walk out of the town and 



424 The Pardon of Guingainp. 

allow him to catch me up, as, although he had several 
others, the vehicle to be used was not " declared," and 
therefore, being exempted from the usual tax, could not 
be legally let out for hire. After proceeding about a 
quarter of a mile I looked behind me, and saw the 
cabriolet advancing with the landlord and his wife, the 
latter seated beside him, as though bent on a day's 
excursion, to throw the townspeople ofT their guard. 
Madame, of course, soon alighted, and I then occupied 
her place ; her husband asking me as a favour, should 
we happen to meet with any stray informer, to assure 
him that the vehicle was my own, and that I had lately 
bought it. I told him I would do no such thing ; that it 
was contrary to the honour and religion of Englishmen 
to lend themselves to falsehoods ; and that the affair was 
his, not mine. 

On our return in the evening, the wife, to disarm 
suspicion, was waiting for him in the road, in company 
with her child and servant ; and the landlord, whose 
guilty conscience distorted every one in the distance to a 
paid informer, was only comfortable in his mind when 
I had fairly alighted, and the others had taken their 
seats beside him. He was anxious, indeed, to send out 
a licensed vehicle to convey me into the town, but I 
told him I had no objection to the walk ; though had 
I known in time, before he set out, that I should thus 
have been lending myself unconsciously to the fraud, I 
should have bargained for a different conveyance. He 
assured me he frequently ran a similar risk with this 
light cabriolet, and had more than once been detected 
and fined. The penalty being considerable, one would 
have fancied in the end he had found it cheaper to get 
his vehicle declared. 

The history of this man was somewhat romantic. 



Interesting Conversation. 425 



The former proprietors of the hotel on one occasion 
had the distinguished honour of entertaining an actress, 
who, by way of settling her account with the host and 
hostess, took her leave in silence, and left her infant as 
a legacy to the house. The owners of the establishment 
being childless, brought up this boy and adopted him 
as their own, and left him, when they died, what 
property they had, beside the good-will of .the hotel. 
He was now a prosperous man and a landowner, and 
was ably seconded in the management of the house by 
his thrifty wife. She was rather too fond, however, of 
treating her guests to veal, a habit which once made a 
facetious traveller give the name to her establishment 
of the " Pays de Veaux." I happened on one occasion, 
when standing at the front door in the evening, to hear 
a dialogue between herself and a servant who had just 
been waiting at the table d'hote. 

Landlady. — " Victorine, what did Mr. So-and-so eat 
at dinner ? " 

Victorine. — " Let me see. He eat some soup — he eat 
some boiled beef — he eat some fish — he eat some 
cutlets — he eat some stew ; in short, he eat of every- 
thing." 

Happily I was not the Mr. So-and-so referred to, but I 
took care for the future not to give the slightest grounds 
to the long-memoried little servant to be able to tell 
her mistress that I had tasted of every dish. 

This, however, is a digression. We were leaving 
Huelgoat on our way to Chateaulin. The journey to 
that town was sufficiently well made ; but how the 
animal behaved returning is another question. A little 
way outside the village we overtook a stalwart peasant, 
who had come from the same place that morning on 
foot, having set out long before daybreak. He was 



426 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



alreaiy on his homeward journey, after having rested 
and refreshed himself for an hour at the inn. He was 
not in the best condition possible for such a lengthened 
walk, with his full, cumbrous braies, and heavy wooden 
shoes ; still he did not appear tired, and was marching 
bravely on. 

Our road lay through St. Herbot and Loqueffret, 
leaving the villages of Braspars and Brannilis two 
miles off on our right. The first six or seven miles 
were through a wild, picturesque country, with sharp 
granite peaks peering up from the naked hills. After 
this it became more cultivated and woody. We like- 
wise left in the distance the abrupt and isolated cone of 
Mont St. Michel (St. Michael is the patron of the loftiest 
spots), on the summit of which is a pilgrimage-chapel, 
whose desolation is broken in upon once a year. My 
driver, who was about fourteen years of age, and looked 
upon it in the light of a considerable mountain, asked 
me if it were visible from my native country ; and he 
was also anxious to know whether the people in England 
lived in houses, being evidently under the impression 
that we dwelt in caves. We reached our destination 
in about five hours, the remainder of the journey to 
Quimper being performed by railway ; from which city, 
after a few days' sojourn, I went on to Quimperle, where 
I remained a week. 

The wedding alluded to took place at Mellac, a few 
miles from the last-named town. The landlord of the 
hotel at which I had put up informed me that he was 
acquainted with the father of the bride, who was a 
former schoolfellow, and that, as he meant to be present, 
he would introduce me to the host. I therefore, a day 
or two before the wedding, went out to Mellac to call 
upon him, and found him hard at work with his 



Old Customs. 



427 



labourers, preparing for the festivities of the coming 
week. Though not in any way distinguishable from 
the rest of them, he was the mayor of the village and a 
wealthy man. I was told that the bridegroom was also 
rich, and that, according to an ancient custom of the 
country, his father had, during his own lifetime, divided 
his property among his grown-up sons. This, however, 
was a mistake, for the father was dead ; still it shows 
that the custom, which is called demission, is not alto- 
gether obsolete among the farming population at the 
present day. 

It is only a degree less singular than the old Breton 
law of quevaize, by which, succession, instead of devolving 
on the eldest, passed formerly to the youngest son ; or 
to the youngest daughter if there were only girls. This 
law was made at a time when there were still vast 
tracts of uncultivated territory throughout the province ; 
md the elder sons, being provided by their fathers with 
cattle and other necessaries, were sent to colonise these 
waste lands. The custom no longer now exists ; but 
the eldest, whilst inheriting the property, is charged 
with the maintenance of the rest of the family, or, at 
any rate, he owes them the value of their own share of 
the estate. This is only, after all, a natural and equitable 
law, and is made to obviate the deteriorating effects of 
the infinite division and subdivision of land, the evil of 
which, increasing in the course of generations, has 
shown itself in various ways. 

On the morning of the wedding I set out alone for 
Mellac at seven, for though my landlord had offered to 
accompany me, I could see he was going more for the 
sake of fulfilling his promise than for any other reason ; 
and as it was evident it would have been taking him 
from other business, I told him he had better follow at 



428 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



his own convenience. The day, unfortunately, turned 
out wet, and he did not finally come at all. The 
residence of the bride's father in this instance was about 
a quarter of a mile off the high-road, and the approaches, 
though not well cared for, gave every indication of its 
being a most substantial farm. The entrance, as usual, 
was through the dirty litter of pigs and cattle. The 
house was tolerably good externally, and larger than 
the one at Plouye, as it contained an upper story, but 
the kitchen was in most respects the same. A wooden 
hen-coop stood near the door ; the floor was of uneven 
clay, and slimy for some distance with accumulated 
mud ; pigs were wandering through the yard in front ; 
and large dogs inside were roaming unrestrained, putting 
their noses into earthenware bowls, and dropping their 
saliva unheeded into them. Every room in the house 
was crowded with women, some of them eating and 
drinking, and some slicing up onions to put into an 
extensive stew. 

I was told, on good authority, that a hundred calves 
or young oxen had been killed for the occasion, and that 
thirty barrels of cider were ready to be drunk. Eight 
hundred guests had been invited for this day, and 
twelve hundred were expected on the "jour des pauvres." 
The income of the father was about twenty thousand 
francs, and that of the bridegroom about six thousand. 
The ceremony of the asking in marriage had taken 
place the previous day, the repast on the occasion being 
confined to relatives and most intimate friends. The 
Count de la Villemarque, who was present, and had 
taken part in the discussion with the Abbe Henry (an 
uncle of the bride) and another person, told me he had 
never known such a rich and altogether satisfactory 
assembly at a Breton wedding. About eighty people 



The Wedding Procession, 



429 



sat down to the feast, but only one other woman beside 
the bride was in the principal apartment, at the bride- 
groom's table, thus keeping up in a measure the ancient 
custom, which excluded women at meal- time from the 
society of the men. Amongst the company were thir- 
teen priests, who, though forbidden to attend nuptial 
festivities, reconciled their consciences to the infringe- 
ment of the law by the recollection that the wedding 
had not yet taken place. Monsieur de la Yillemarque 
would likewise have been present on this the principal 
day, but that he was attending the usual yearly service 
for the repose of his father's soul. 

The gathering on this occasion was in some respects 
superior to that of Plouye, for two temporary arbours, 
about a hundred feet in length and roofed in with green 
branches, had been erected for the accommodation of 
the guests, and there were likewise musicians from the 
neighbouring town, two of whom played the hautbois, 
and the other two the biniou, the national instrument, 
without which a wedding festivity in Brittany is hardly 
looked upon as complete. 

About an hour or so after my arrival, as I was stand- 
ing outside watching the preparations for the barquet, 
which were going on in the open air at half-a-dozen 
fires, with a caldron suspended above them, and pre- 
sided over by twice as many female cooks, I saw the 
procession of the bridegroom advancing in the distance 
down the chestnut avenue. The scene altogether would 
have made a striking picture. His parent being dead, 
he was accompanied by his godfather, an invariable 
custom, which likewise provides that should the god- 
father die and his wife marry again, her husband should, 
on this important occasion, be the principal supporter of 
the young man. The procession, on its way down the 



430 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

avenue was momentarily interrupted by the importunity 
of a mendicant, who had fastened himself on to the two 
principal personages in front. He had become so an- 
noying that at length the godfather, losing patience, 
seized the fellow by the collar, and flung him into the 
dirt. I inquired of a bystander who he was. " He's a 
beggar," was the reply, "and if you don't give him 
money he'll serve you in the same way." The man, it 
may be remarked, had the use of only one hand ; but 
he was a good-for-nothing vagabond, and was the only 
person in the evening, when I took my departure at six 
o'clock, whom T detected drunk. 

Directly the partj^ came in sight of the house, the 
shrill- sounding bagpipes sounded forth their welcome. 
The bridegroom, who was about twenty years of age, 
was magnificently attired ; the front of his coat and his 
waistcoat were thick with spangles and silver embroi- 
dery ; and on his hat was a very broad band thickly 
worked over with coloured silk, dazzling with silver and 
scarlet, and falling down in a long bow behind. Round 
his waist he wore a white leather belt, five inches in 
breadth, with massive clasps, one of them in the form 
of a heart. The "sign of the Holy Sacrament" was 
embroidered in red and yellow on the back of his jacket, 
about a foot in length, according to the custom of the 
country ; and there were very few men among the 
hundreds present who did not carry the same religious 
emblem, though in smaller type. 

The dress of the bride, who was about the same age, 
and very pretty and self-possessed, was of the usual 
black serge over a scarlet petticoat, but relieved at the 
skirt by at least twelve inches of handsome silver em- 
broidery ; all the upper portion also, to the waist, being 
similarly adorned. Her head-dress was composed of 



The Wedding Costumes. 431 



folds of silver lace, over which were a white muslin cap 
and a wreath of silver. On her bosom she wore a 
bouquet of silver flowers, and round her neck were sus- 
pended a golden heart and a cross of the same precious 
metal. A handsome silk apron bordered with silver, 
and a silver sash, completed her beautiful costume. 
Both bride and bridegroom, in fact, were glittering with 
ornament. The brother of the latter, who was likewise 
his " best man," was attired somewhat similarly, but 
without the belt and hatband ; and the dress of the chief 
bridesmaid was also as nearly as possible a counterpart 
to that of her friend, though wanting the bouquet and 
the silver wreath. The other attendants had silk em- 
broidered skirts ; caps of silver ribbon, with lace coming 
over them in folds ; embroidered vests ; and strips of 
black velvet adorned with silver spangles round the 
neck, which fell almost to the waist behind. 

The trousseau of the bride had been made at Bannalec, 
a village not many miles distant, and the artiste who 
had designed it came over to fit it on. She told me it 
had cost upwards of five hundred francs. The crowd 
and bustle, both in and out of the house, were now be- 
coming tremendous, and by the time the company ad- 
journed to the church, which was almost within a stone- 
throw, the immediate attendants of the happy pair 
amounted to nearly sixty. The two parties, however, 
walked on separately as at Plouye. The building in 
this instance was very full, and the ceremony was per- 
formed by the Abbe Henry, assisted by the Cure and 
his Vicaire. The service was musical, the harmonium 
being played by the younger priest. The Abbe, who 
was chaplain to the hospital at Quimperle, gave from the 
altar-rails, to his niece and her husband, an extempore 
address of nearly half an hour ; the yours g couple a I the 



432 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



close of it being recalled by their chief attendants to the 
body of the church. 

The rain was now coming down in torrents, and under 
the trees outside the churchyard had been set a small 
table covered with a white cloth, on which were placed 
two large loaves of bread, and two very beautiful shapes 
of butter, elaborately designed like fancy baskets ; as 
likewise a jug of cider encircled by a scarlet ribbon, 
and two little tumblers similarly adorned. When the 
party emerged from the vestry, the godfather, who was 
master of ceremonies, first partook of the refreshment 
himself, and then handed it to the newly-married pair 
and their two principal attendants. This form being 
over, the company adjourned to the fragile arbours, 
where the feast immediately began ; but the thin green 
branches of which the roof was made were quite insuffi- 
cient to keep out the rain, and as many of the guests as 
could be accommodated made their way to the house, 
partaking of the banquet as best they could. The courses 
were not quite so numerous as at Plouye, consisting 
merely of soup, tripe, boiled beef, and pork. A table 
had been set in an upper room for the citizen guests, 
who, in addition to this fare, were treated to crepe, a sort 
of unsweetened pancake, made of buckwheat, as thin as 
a wafer, and served up cold. 

For nearly two hours there was nothing but a conti- 
nuous tramp of heavy wooden shoes, made by the people 
who were waiting on the guests ; and the stairs were 
blockaded by these assiduous attendants, who brought 
up bowls of vegetable soup and plates of meat sufficient 
to have feasted an entire army. The chambers above 
were at the same time sitting-rooms and dormitories, 
being provided as usual with a considerable number of 
cupboard beds ; whilst, as a somewhat unusual circum- 



The Gavotte. 



433 



stance in a Breton farmhouse, one of them had the 
luxury of a case of books. 

The Abbe Henry, upon whom, at his invitation, I 
subsequently called at Quimperle, told me that his niece 
had formerly another lover, though this one had 
always been her secret choice. Her father, in the course 
of the transaction, had not been insensible to pecuniary 
considerations, for marriage amongst the rich Breton 
farmers is quite as much a matter of interest as of senti- 
ment, and a parent would on no account give his daugh- 
ter to any but a substantial man. In olden times, on 
the day of a wedding, before the bridegroom and his 
party had yet arrived at the house, it was customary for 
a discarded lover to present himself to the bride, who 
tied round his arm a threefold ribbon — white, typical 
of her innocence ; pink, of her beauty ; and black, of 
the despair which was henceforth his portion. One 
last embrace succeeded, and the ribbon, if the hap- 
less youth was beyond consolation, was treasured up 
and looked upon by him as an emblem indeed of 
good-will, but which excluded for ever any dearer 
hope. 

Towards four o'clock the weather began happily to 
clear, and the company went out to dance. It was a 
most picturesque sight, in the midst of hundreds of 
spectators, and beneath a beautiful grove of old Spanish 
chestnuts, to see the bride and her bridesmaids initiating 
the gavotte. Mingling in the dance, and in the dress 
of a citizen, was pointed out to me a nobleman resident 
in the neighbourhood. It may be remarked, however, 
that frequently in Brittany one understands by the 
term the descendant merely of some noble family, who 
claims no title, and corresponds rather with our country 
squire ; and the individual in question would have 



434 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



been undistinguishable from a peasant, except for his 
bourgeois costume. 

I had already become quite thick with the brother- 
in-law of the mayor, a very nice elderly man, and 
another member of the family of about the same age. 
On our way to the chestnut grove we had met the old 
cure walking near his house. " Is Monsieur le Recteur 
coming to see the wedding ? " asked one of my com- 
panions. " My share of the festivities came off yester- 
day," replied the ecclesiastic, somewhat abruptly ; " the 
clergy don't attend such assemblies as these ; it isn't 
our custom to be present at wedding feasts." Then, 
addressing himself to me after we had made acquaint- 
ance, " I should like to have a discussion with you ; I 
should wish to convert you ; but it cannot be done in a 
moment. Yes, you are right ; it would take upwards 
of an hour, and I cannot spare the time." " Are we 
not both Christians ?" said I. " Christians ! " echoed 
the old man ; " you are not a Catholic ; you don't be- 
lieve in the Holy Father — you don't believe Yes, 

I should much like to have a discussion with you, but I 
cannot spare the time." And so saying, the aged 
rector, who firmly believed that salvation was impos- 
sible out of the pale of the Church, hobbled nimbly 
away upon his stick, niggard of the few precious 
moments which might, in his estimation, have saved 
the soul of a heretic from eternal torment. 

" As you perceive," said my friend, " he's rather 
ridiculous ; he's invariably coming down upon some- 
body or other. You must have noticed the manner in 
which he caught you up. The fact is, he and I don't 
pull together very well. I never go to confession ; 
and it's this that nettles him. I don't like exposing 
my little weaknesses to man. In this respect my 



Points of Difference. 



435 



religion very much resembles that of your own 
country." 

He then asked me some questions as to the custom 
of our Church, and I repeated to him the confession 
with which the service opens, a formula with which 
he was very much pleased ; whilst, at the same time, 
I remarked that the best way to save himself from the 
humiliation of his weaknesses was to try and correct 
them, so as not to have them to confess. 

"What are the chief points of difference/' he con- 
tinued, " between Protestants and Catholics ? You 
don't believe, I think, do you, that the Sainte Vierge 
had ever any children by her husband ?" 

" Some people do," I answered, " and I dare say some 
persons do not. But what good can it do us either one 
way or the other ? Why should we torment ourselves 
with uncertain subjects ? Whether we accept the doc- 
trine or whether we reject it, how are we in any way 
the better or the worse ?" 

"You are right there," he replied. "You don't 
believe either in transubstantiation ? " 

" No," I answered, " certainly we do not." 

He was extremely anxious that I should go into the 
rectory, and have a discussion with the priest ; so 
much so, in fact, that at last I was obliged to tell him 
that I was not sufficiently fluent to hold an argument 
satisfactorily on important subjects in a foreign tongue. 

"You are as fluent as I am," he answered; "but 
probably there may not be time." 

" I had never," he continued, " much instruction ; 
neither had the nouveau marie. He's a young man who 
couldn't keep up a very long conversation with you ; 
his education has been limited ; his wife, on the other 
hand, is remarkably well informed. As for her father, 



436 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

the mayor, lie's exceedingly reserved ; lie never will 
tell anybody much. I'll introduce you by-and-by to 
a first-rate talker. Ah, here he comes ! Now speak to 
him. Hell converse with you for hours on any subject 
you like to start." 

My other friend told me that at the siege of Sebas- 
topol he had lost a son. With a voice sounding sadly 
at the remembrance of his child, " I allowed him," said 
he, " to go into the army, thinking that a few years of 
military life and contact with the world would make 
him solid, for he was rather wild. Could I have fore- 
seen how it had ended I would have bought him out ; 
but, on the contrary, it was otherwise ordained." 

After dancing for about an hour and a half the com- 
pany adjourned' in a body, some of them to the house, 
and some of them to the arbours, for another course \ 
on which one of my acquaintances made the sensible 
remark, " For my part I am unable to eat so often ; I 
haven't yet digested what I took two hours ago." 

As stated previously, at this time the only person 
drunk was the importunate mendicant who had been 
flung into the dirt in the morning by the bridegroom's 
godfather. This was owing, perhaps, partly to the 
respectable position of the host, no less than to the fact 
that the only beverage given at the feast was cider ; 
though some speculative individual had, on his own 
account, set up a booth in the avenue for the sale of 
wine and spirits. The Abbe Henry also subsequently 
said to me, laughing somewhat slily, " I don't suppose 
they gave it to you at the wedding out of the same cask 
from which they treated us the day before." The Abbe, 
it may be added, has poetical ability in the Breton 
language, and it was he who composed the discussion 
in which M. de la Villemarque had taken part. His 



Quand f ai senti. 



437 



name occurs incidentally in a note explanatory of one 
of the poems in the Barzaz Breiz. 

The soiipe au lait was on this occasion to be dispensed 
with ; and on the morrow, after a great deal more feast- 
ing, the relatives, preceded by hautbois and bagpipe, 
would, I was told, set out with the guests who had 
tarried in the house, and see them a portion of their 
way home. 



QUAND J'AI SENTI. 



When hope foretold somehow that soon 

The scents of spring the air would fill, 
Scarce ceased my feet from morn till noon 

To sconr the plain and climb the hill. 
Thought I, the tenderest bud that feels 

This glorious orb's enlivening ray, 
For her my rest and peace who steals, 

I'll watch and pluck at break of day. 

Forthwith my love the gift I gave : 

She, blushing, straight the token took ; 
For it one simple boon I crave, 

A place in yonder holy book : 
Not vain its frail existence spent, 

When youth and freshness cede to age, 
From mute oblivion well content 

To rescue some neglected page. 

Time beat its barely-heeded wing 

With no uncertain sound or faint, 
('Tis morn,) the merry church-bells ring 

The fete day of our patron saint. 
The pictured mass-book graced her hand, 

The slow leaves turn'd, the gift I spied, 
Concealing scarce the twain who stand, 

Life fealty swearing side by side. 



OHAPTEE XXIX. 



Le Faouet. — Votive Chapels. — Yannes. — The Cathedral. — A Portrait. 
— Sarzeau. — Castle of Succinio. — St. Gildas — The Nunnery. — 
Triffine. — A Stormy Night. — A Sad Story. — Life in the Convent. — 
Auray. — The Grande Chartreuse. — Drive to Quiberon. — The Poor 
Kloarecks. — Easter Offerings. 

N the neighbourhood of Le Faouet, a large 
village about fifteen miles from Quiniperle, is 
the votive chapel of St. Barbe, situated in a 
remarkably beautiful and unwonted spot. Le Faouet, 
which is a primitive little place, consists chiefly of one 
large square of ordinary houses, and has in the centre 
its little avenue of limes and elms, and a queer old 
market-hall with a ponderous wooden roof. One or two 
houses, with the upper story overhanging and resting 
on pillars, indicate what, perhaps, was formerly the 
universal style. It is a remote and secluded village, in 
which I saw women seated on their doorsteps drawing 
out coarse thread from their distaffs in a manner as old- 
fashioned as the place in which they dwell. 

The way to the chapel, which is not two miles off, is by 
a road which leads, after some little distance, to a long 
flight of steps under an ascending avenue on the hill-side. 
These being surmounted, you come to a small enclosed 
garden, surrounded by a low granite wall, in the centre 
of which is the tomb of a revolutionary hero, Claude 
Rene Bellanger. Just beyond this is a low detached 
belfry, and descending a flight of steps with a handsome 
granite balustrade, you are quite unprepared for the 




A Votive Chapel. 



439 



scene which bursts upon you. Standing on an artificial 
platform on the side of the lofty hill, and backed up 
by a rock which rises nearly to its own height, is 
the handsome little chapel of St. Barbe. Four flights 
of granite steps with elaborate balustrades here meet 
in the form of a cross ; two of them running nearly 
parallel with the valley below, and one leading to an 
isolated pillar of rock which looks abruptly over the 
valley, and on whose summit is another but very tiny 
chapel dedicated to St. Michael. The intervening space 
between this pillar of rock and the side of the hill is 
spanned by a beautiful granite bridge, and the whole 
has more the air of some fancy piece in the side scene 
of a theatre than of any real thing. The valley below, 
which is a pasturage for cattle, is watered by a shallow, 
brawling stream. The hill- side opposite is rocky, and 
that on which the chapel is built is thickly wooded with 
beech and chestnut. The building is surrounded with 
mountain ash, and the trunk of one of them, which 
was hollow, was of such unusual girth, that with a 
quantity of straw in the interior, it had all the appear- 
ance of having been recently made use of by pilgrims 
as a place of shelter for the night. 

On ascending one of the flights of steps you again 
pass by rock on either side to the top of the hill, an 
uncultivated heath, near the granite cross which greeted 
you on your first approaching this romantic spot. The 
chapel, though small, has a vaulted roof, and contains 
several votive pictures : amongst others, one representing 
a heavy, old-fashioned coach of the seventeenth century, 
with driver and two footmen. A lady has just fallen 
out, and a gentleman is rushing to her assistance. I 
heard the story afterwards in the market of Quimperle 
from a woman of this neighbourhood who was selling 



44° The Pardon of Guingamp, 



wood. It appears that on the other side of the opposite 
hill, not two miles off, are still the ruins of an ancient 
chateau. This belonged formerly to the Baron de 
Barregan, who was also Marquis de Faouet and Vis- 
count de Meslan. This nobleman on one occasion was 
travelling in his coach with the Baroness, when the 
horses took fright, and the lady fell out. Her husband, 
seeing her fall, commended her at the moment to the 
protection of St. Barbe, and vowed that, if he picked 
her up unhurt, he would build a chapel in honour of 
the saint. The property, this woman told me, had 
been for more than a generation in her husband's family, 
and except that the requisite papers were not forth- 
coming, there were many wealthy people in Paris who, 
for the sake of the title, would have purchased the 
estate. 

Amongst other pictures in the chapel are some repre- 
senting shipwrecks, or rather, vessels in a storm ; one 
also of a house in flames, with peasants on their knees in 
front of it invoking the saint, who in every instance is 
represented in the corner of the painting peering 
through the clouds. St. Barbe is the patroness of naval 
gunners, and the magazine on board a man-of-war is 
called invariably by her name. The windows of the 
chapel have still a few remains of painted glass ; but its 
principal attraction consists in the situation, which 
certainly is beautiful. 

Within two miles of Le Faouet, but in quite an 
opposite direction, there is another notable chapel, that 
of St. Fiacre, a beautiful Gothic edifice in a hamlet of 
scarcely half-a-dozen houses. It is most striking to come 
upon a building like this in a situation so secluded. The 
church, which is constructed of granite, is cruciform, 
and has a groined porch in the south, handsome and 



Chapel of St. Fiacre. 



441 



lofty. In this are canopied niches for the twelve 
Apostles, who are, however, now displaced. All round 
the church, every here and there, both inside and ex- 
ternally, are similar canopied niches, but empty like 
the others. Piles of granite heads, and the limbs and 
bodies of a score of saints, were heaped up together in 
the nave. The windows were at one time filled with 
rich stained glass, fragments only of which now remain. 

At the present time the most striking portion of the 
interior is the massive and elaborately- carved screen, 
which gives it an appearance of grandeur even in 
decay. The whole is covered with grotesque figures : 
amongst them a friar in the form of a fox is preaching 
in his robes to a number of fowls ; another fox is hiding 
under the pulpit, ready in a moment to pounce on the 
congregation. The next scene represents the friar 
mobbed by the fowls ; and another shows him slain by 
his indignant flock. The screen itself is not in a bad 
state of preservation, and if it were painted judiciously 
would be magnificent. The roof, however, of the build- 
ing, which is of wood, is in a sad condition of decay, 
though the chapel, when in its prime, must have been 
one of the most beautiful of its class in Brittany. 

Hitherto we have been principally in the department 
of Finistere : we shall now proceed to that of the Mor- 
bihan, which signifies a little sea. This portion of 
Brittany was settled in ancient times by the Veneti, an 
enterprising people, whose naval prowess is spoken of 
by CaGsar. He tells us (Book III.) that the inhabitants 
of this part of the country have a great number of 
ships, with which they are accustomed to sail to Briton. 
When he made war upon them he built ships in the 
Loire, and manned them with rowers from the province 
through which that river runs. He says that the 



442 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



Veneti have their towns constructed on promontories 
and extreme points of land, on which account they were 
difficult to be stormed. With the exception, however, 
of Port Louis, near L ? Orient, we do not now find any 
town in the Morbihan so built. 

The capital of the department is Vannes, a city 
situated on a river at the extremity of this most un- 
interesting inland sea. If a little in the style of 
Quimper, it is not nearly so pleasant and attractive. 
Old houses and streets are one by one disappearing, and 
it is gradually putting on a new dress. Portions of its 
ancient wall and tower still remain in their massive- 
ness, built into by blocks of houses, and half hidden 
by others, which in the course of time have sprung up 
outside into suburbs, and now look coeval with the 
oldest parts. The original limits, however, of the 
city can still be clearly traced. Occasionally you 
manage to get a very pretty peep, especially where 
some vine or fig tree overhangs the shallow river, 
along whose banks crowds of laundresses are continu- 
ally seen pursuing their avocations. At high tide the 
port or quay, up to which vessels of three hundred tons 
can come, has a sufficiently good appearance, with its 
avenue of trees on either side, but at other times the 
channel runs nearly dry. 

The public buildings of Vannes are not remarkable. 
Amongst them is a large new prefecture, built of 
granite, somewhat in the style of the Louvre. The 
cathedral internally is not a very pleasing structure. 
It is of a single span, consisting principally of a nave, 
without any side aisles or pillars to support the roof. 
You hear very little but French now spoken in the 
town. Going one evening into a cafe, and entering 
into conversation with the people of the house, I found 



Gentleman of the Old School 



443 



that, though natives, they almost looked down upon 
the idea of conversing in Breton, which they said was 
only useful in talking to peasants on market-days, and 
was now in the city hardly known. They had appa- 
rently scarcely any pride of country, and knew nothing 
of its poetry or old traditions. The husband had been 
maitre cV hotel on board a man- of-war, and though very 
civil, was far too fine a gentleman to descend to such 
common subjects. The most interesting building, per- 
haps, in Vannes for association, though that of modern 
date, is the Communal College, the students of which, 
in the time of the first empire, displayed such a noble 
spirit of loyalty, and held out so bravely for the king 
and the cause of the Legitimist regime. The chivalry 
they displayed could be ranked with that of La Roche- 
jaquelin in the wars of La Vendee. I stood before it 
for some time in the Place, and looked upon it with 
the highest feeling of veneration on this account. 

In the street in which the market for fruit and 
vegetables is held I caught sight of a gentleman who 
must have been the last of his race. He was dressed 
in tight trousers and a scanty swallow-tailed coat, the 
posterior appendages to which were of the very shortest 
dimensions. On his head he had a wide-awake, such 
as is only worn by peasants, with an unusually wide 
brim, and a double eye-glass about his neck. 

From Vannes, after a sojourn of a few days, I set 
out by courier for Sarzeau, a village on a peninsula 
which forms the southern boundary of land enclosing 
the interior sea. It was a cold, blustery day, with 
drizzling rain, in keeping with the nature of the 
country through which we passed, which shows its 
poverty by the constant succession of bleak-looking 
hamlets all along the way. The shores of the Mor- 



444 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



bihan are flat and uninteresting, and indicate, by the 
wide expanse of mud at low tide, bow evidently this 
inland sbeet of water was originally formed by an 
irruption of tbe outer sea. We arrived at Sarzeau in 
two hours and a half, and depositing my small amount 
of impedimenta at a very dirty house, which was the 
best hotel in the place, I walked to the Castle of Succinio, 
a large and imposing ruin, about three miles off, stand- 
ing out grandly on a low flat almost immediately over- 
looking the sea- shore. Viewed in the distance, it 
appears almost perfect, and you have some difficulty in 
believing that it is a fortress in decay ; inside, however, 
it is nothing but a shell, and the wind was howling 
mournfully through the walls and battlements. 

I returned to Sarzeau for dinner, and had intended 
sleeping there, but the house was so dirty, and the 
landlady so full of snuff, that another meal would have 
been impossible, and I determined to push on for St. 
Grildas, a village four miles distant, without delay. I 
had no sooner got well out upon the high-road than a 
drizzling rain set in, which steadily increased, until at 
length the storm burst out in all its fury, and it was 
a matter of no little difficulty to battle with, the op- 
posing wind. I now turned round for a moment and 
looked back upon Sarzeau almost with regret, for the 
tower of the church was conspicuous, and I was as yet 
only half a mile away. Under any circumstances, 
however, I should be completely drenched, so I de- 
termined at all hazards to go on. The way lay through 
a desolate, half- cultivated country ; rude stone fences, 
dividing off the fields, gave clear indication of the 
neighbourhood of the sea, and for three-fourths of the 
distance I passed neither farm nor cottage on the road- 
side. 



Convent of St Gildas. 



445 



At length the tower of the old abbey church of St. 
Gildas broke in upon the view, and though the sun 
had not yet set as I walked up the humble village 
street, the thickly- gathered clouds made the atmosphere 
prematurely dark. I knew of no hotel or house of 
entertainment in the place, but had heard, when at 
Yannes, that the Sisters in the nunnery were accustomed 
to receive guests who came here for the bathing. I 
therefore at once made my way to the building, and 
ringing the bell at the porter's lodge, was answered by 
one of the servants of the institution, who made her ap- 
pearance in the dress of the order. I was admitted into 
the room, and a Sister entering, I stated my perplexity : 
I was a traveller, who had walked from Sarzeau, 
thoroughly drenched : could I be accommodated for the 
night ? 

The reply was not altogether encouraging: had I 
any lady with me, for it was against the principles of 
the community to receive single men ? No, I answered, 
unfortunately not ; but would they not take pity on 
my condition — so wet, so tired ? I did not care 
what accommodation they could offer me, for I was 
certain of finding everything clean ; that was infinitely 
preferable to a dirty inn, of which I had the most 
intense disgust. 

This well-timed compliment softened in a moment 
the heart of the good-natured nun, and, with a smile on 
her face, she said she would go and speak to the Superior. 
She then showed me into a small, bare waiting-room 
with whitewashed walls, and putting a candle on the 
table, shut the door and left me to my reflections. The 
storm was still raging violently, and cheerless as was 
this little chamber, so great was the contrast to the 
fury of the elements which I had just escaped, that I 



446 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



could not help congratulating myself inwardly on my 
dry retreat. The only relief to the bareness of the 
whitewashed walls was a suspended crucifix and two or 
three simple pictures, one of them representing the 
vision of St. Francis, and another, Commore asking 
of St. Gfildas the hand of Triffine. 

Here is the tradition of this hapless lady. Somewhere 
towards the sixth century the isle of Houat, which lies 
opposite to this peninsula, was the abode of Gildas, a 
renowned Celtic saint. The life he led was austere; 
he slept on the bare ground, and allowed himself food 
only three times a week. The fame of his austerity 
attracted such crowds of people that the island at length 
proved too small for those who came to submit themselves 
to his rule. Gruerech, a Count of Vannes, invited him 
thereupon to take up his abode on the peninsula, and 
presented him with a residence, which he converted 
into a monastery. One day the saint was waited upon 
by a seigneur of Morbihan, the accursed Commore, the 
Bluebeard of Brittany, who was deeply enamoured of 
the Count's beloved daughter, but was spurned by her 
father, from the infamy of his character, as he was 
notorious for putting the objects of his love to death. 
The monster came, therefore, to intercede with the saint 
in the- prosecution of his suit. Grildas, moved by his 
tears and promises of repentance, pledged him his in- 
fluence for that purpose with the Count. For the space 
of six months Commore treated his newly-made wife with 
the greatest tenderness ; but perceiving soon afterwards 
that she was likely to become a moth er, his conduct towards 
her became gross and brutal, so that she fled from him 
in horror, but was pursued and caught, and he then 
consummated his barbarity by cutting off her head. The 
Count came to the saint and upbraided him with bitter- 



An Uninviting Room. 447 



ness, reminding him that as lie had been instrumental 
in inducing him to part with his daughter, it was his 
duty to restore her to him alive again. Gildas listened 
to his plea, and raising up Triffine, presented her once 
more to her disconsolate parent. She gave birth to a 
son, and fled with him to a certain village in the Cotes 
du Nord. The child, who was baptized by the name of 
Tremeur, was subsequently brought up in the peninsula 
at the abbey of the saint. But his atrocious father, 
having heard of his existence and the place of his 
retreat, pursued him likewise, as he had pursued his 
mother, and put him to death eventually in the same 
way. 

In about ten minutes the nun returned in company 
with another, who told me I could be accommodated 
with a room, but one so unpretending that it was little 
better than a cell. I was loath to bring the good Sister 
out on such a boisterous night, but lending her my 
umbrella, such as it was (for it had been shattered in 
the storm), I followed her across the court in the deluge 
to the building in which I was to sleep. She conducted 
me up to the highest story, and showing me into an 
attic floored with bricks, in which were two beds, a 
chair, and a table, but not the vestige of a carpet, she 
told me she was sorry there was no better room. The 
accommodation certainly was somewhat dismal, for a 
blazing fire would, under the circumstances, have been 
more congenial, and I was obliged to leave all my 
clothes outside to be taken down and dried, though 
consoled by the promise of a bowl of coffee, which in 
about twenty minutes was faithfully brought up. 

I went off to sleep for a moment after this, but 
speedily awaking, a bright red shadow falling on the 
wall made me get up and look out on the sun, which 



448 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



was just then sinking into the sea- — a glorious sight, as 
it lighted up the rocks and islands on the iron coast. 
It was a fearful night, and the howling of the wind 
through the roof, and the rain beating violently against 
the casement, kept me awake for hours. I lay thinking 
over Brittany, and its castles and churches, and its 
wonderful people, who were still in remoter districts 
almost what their fathers were before them a thousand 
years ago. Then, again, I pondered on the multitudes 
who had lived and passed away during that lengthened 
period. What a humbling thought ! Where are they ? 
How few of them have left a name behind ; their only 
trace being these castles and churches, so many even 
of which are now falling to decay ! To die one day, 
and to be buried the next ; to have your grave-stone 
removed in five years if you are poor ; to be dug at, 
even if you are rich, in twelve, your skull taken out of 
the ground, and placed in a little hideous box, until 
your friends get tired of it, and your name and profes- 
sion painted in front, such as is the case with Monsieur 
Trober, Doctor in Medicine, of whose cranium in the 
Cathedral of St. Pol de Leon it is said, " Ci-git le 
chef " — this is man's fate. The skull of the bishop 
who died a hundred and fifty years ago, which has 
survived the ravages of the Revolution, and is visible 
still in the same cathedral, is in comparison, amongst 
the few, the very few immortal. 

Falling off to sleep at last, I was awoke about five 
o'clock by the servant bringing up my clothes, which, 
although they had been put before the fire, were still 
very wet. I had to call out after her for a looking- 
glass, a towel, and some hot water, neither of these 
things being looked upon here as indispensable. The 
storm had now nearly abated, and the view from the 



A Sad Tale. 



449 



window of the surrounding coast was beautiful. The 
bell of the abbey church was tolling as for a funeral. 
To the family of the deceased was attached a melan- 
choly story. Amongst the passengers by the courier 
with whom I had travelled the day before was a re- 
spectable-looking man, who appeared ill and sad, and 
who buried his face in his hands without uttering a 
word. I asked him after a time what was the matter 
with him, and found that from violent and recent grief 
the blood had been driven to his head. During four 
whole days he had entirely lost his sight. He had 
invested his little capital in shares of some of the 
trading vessels which navigate these seas. One of them, 
commanded by his brother, had recently been lost, and 
all on board had perished. Three other boats likewise, 
with two of his nephews, had shared the same fate ; 
and now, to crown his misfortunes, he had just heard 
of the death of his mother, and was going home to 
bury her. This is indeed a fearful coast for sailors on 
a stormy night, and one very large vessel had been 
wrecked on an island opposite only a very short time 
ago. 

On going down into the court I met one of the nuns, 
•who persuaded me to have a cup of chocolate, which in 
about half an hour was brought into the refectory, after 
which I was conducted by another of the sisters over 
those portions of the convent which are shown to 
strangers. It appeared that the detached house in 
which I was located was set apart for families in which 
there were gentlemen, whilst unprotected ladies were 
accommodated in that portion of the building on the 
other side of the court where the nuns reside. There 
were at this time a considerable number of guests in 
both. The community consists of thirty Sisters, who 



45° The Pardon of Giiingamp. 

occupy their time in educating eighty girls, received 
into the establishment between the ages of ten and 
fifteen years, after which period they are placed out in 
service. 

The chapel is a very small building, and the nun 
explained to me with regret how that, before the Revo- 
lution, the large church close by was an appendage to 
the building, which was at that time a monastery. 
The commune, however, sent up a petition subsequently 
to Government, requesting it might be made over to 
the inhabitants as a parish church. The gardens are 
unusually extensive. Leading out from the largest of 
them is a small plantation which shelters from the 
westerly winds, as is apparent from the direction of the 
foliage. I remarked to my guide that it must be a 
pleasant place in summer, but rather dull I should 
fancy in the winter. She replied, on the contrary, that 
they had seldom any snow or ice, and it was never 
very cold, though always windy. They did not make 
use of fires in their sitting-rooms, but came for exercise 
in the grove, where there was always some sheltered 
spot, and when they felt chilly they warmed themselves 
with heated stones. 

Emerging at length from the wood, we came to a 
tiny cemetery, in which were three well-tended graves. 
"Here is a place," said the sister, "to reflect on the 
shortness of life ; " but though indeed it was an appro- 
priate spot, there was nothing here of the gloom and 
horror which broods over the graveyards of continental 
countries. Many of the Breton cemeteries present 
nothing to the view but a succession of thick granite 
slabs placed horizontally on the ground, without a tree 
or shrub to relieve the cruel nakedness of the place ; 
while others, on the contrary, are a forest of wooden 



A Tiny Cemetery. 



451 



crosses, almost equally repulsive, though crowned with 
flowers and immortal wreaths. Here, however, was a 
pretty little garden, on the verge of the wood, with 
three uprising mounds grown over with grass, and 
watched with careful hands ; and the living, when they 
came to reflect on death, might be soothed in their 
melancholy by the murmur of the waves and the sight 
of the eternal sea. 

If it is well sometimes to ponder upon this, why 
should it be done in the howling wilderness ; and why 
not rather in peace and sunshine, and in the midst of 
beauty? By the Celts of old Necessity was adored. 
Why not, then, attempt to divest it of its horror, and 
transform this dismal acre into a blooming garden — 
one that will not scare survivors from the spot ? an 
adorning, indeed, rather for the living than for the 
dead ; for these, " after life's fitful fever, sleep well." 

I asked the nun how it was, that with so many 
inmates in the convent, so few should have been buried 
here ; upon which she told me that, as medical advice 
was not to be had in the village, when any of the Sisters 
are taken dangerously ill, they are carried into Vannes, 
where they end their days. 

It was scarcely a hundred yards from the garden to 
the shore. The coast was wildly rocky, though the 
cliffs were not lofty, and several poor women were 
searching for their breakfast on the slippery stones — 
raw limpets, which they eat then and there, with no 
other accompaniment, or with a piece of bread. 

In the course of the morning, as I was walking 
across the court, I was accosted by a lady who held in 
her hand a volume of Frazer's Magazine, and whose 
slight, but not unpleasing, accent betrayed her Irish 
nationality. She had heard that a sfcangrer had arrived 



452 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



the previous evening, and had inquired whether there 
were any English visitors in the convent, and fancying 
that perhaps I was in need of an interpreter, she very 
kindly volunteered her services. Though not indis- 
pensable, I was only too glad to accept her as a guide ; 
for she had been here nearly three weeks. For the 
last two or three years she had been travelling over 
the Continent with her two young daughters, and she 
was evidently struck by comparison with the poverty 
of Brittany. The abbey church of St. Gildas, though 
heavy, is not a mean building. It is chiefly interesting 
for its tombs of saints and nobles, the former of which 
are raised, and the latter flat. Besides this, however, 
and the coast, which is always an attraction, there is 
very little to be seen. 

A " jour maigre" is not a very favourable day to be 
introduced to a convent ; and though everything at 
table was scrupulously clean, and in delightful contrast 
to the smaller inns, yet somehow or other there was not 
quite enough. Oysters, for instance, make a tolerable 
show on a plate, if they are brought up in their shells ; 
but if the fish inside is small, four or five of them will 
not go very far towards satisfying a hungry person. 
The company likewise at table were very solemn, and 
the meals were eaten in almost painful silence. The 
"unprotected" amongst the visitors eat by themselves 
in their own quarter of the convent, but the Irish lady 
told me that during the time she had been there she had 
found the fare anything but nourishing. The meat is 
principally confined to veal, and the mutton, when there 
is any, is very poor. 

It is a place, therefore, which would not do for any 
one requiring strengthening food ; and the rooms in the 
establishment being so utterly cheerless, it is a wonder 



Unearthly Visitors, 



453 



how people can remain there any length of time. They 
come, however, principally for the bathing, which is a 
very sociable recreation, for ladies and gentlemen being, 
according to the law of the country, attired in suitable 
costume, walk together into the water hand in hand. 

The Breton language in this part of the country is 
gradually dying out ; there are no Pardons, as in other 
villages, and they have only one annual fair. The people 
on this account are not very interesting, for though ex- 
tremely superstitious, they have few traditions, and they 
are invariably afraid of ghosts. I came in contact with 
a man who, on a certain dark occasion, had been chased 
by one of them ; there could not have been the slightest 
doubt as to the nature of his pursuer, for he had seen 
his hat, a conclusive evidence of unearthliness. Of real 
flesh and blood my informant was not afraid, but to 
spirits at night he had a decided aversion — a prejudice 
which he shared in common with most of the inha- 
bitants of the place. 

Not far from Vannes is Auray, a nice little Breton 
town of four thousand inhabitants, though somewhat 
dull, except on a market-day. Here, as at most other 
fairs and markets in Brittany, I saw literature mono- 
polised by Gascon families with perambulating book- 
stalls. They are easily distinguishable by their dress 
and features, the women having very sunburnt faces, 
and wearing bright yellow handkerchiefs round the 
head. 

About two miles from the town is a Grecian temple 
to the memory of the Royalists who, to the number of 
nearly a thousand, were either killed in fight or slaugh- 
tered on this spot by the Republicans, after landing at 
Quiberon in 1795. In the silence of its lonely situation, 
and the lamp ever burning in the gloomy building, there 



454 The Pardon of Gumgamp. 



is something particularly mournful and impressive. 
Half-way between this and Auray is the nunnery of 
the Grande Chartreuse, in the chapel attached to which 
is a monument over the remains of these unfortunate 
men. Their names are recorded in gilt letters round 
the tomb — marquises and counts, and a multitude of 
others of noble family ; and, as if to add still greater so- 
lemnity to the spot, a man comes in silence to the vault, 
and opening its cold stone doors, lets down a lighted 
taper and reveals to you a mouldering heap of skulls 
and bones. He shuts it up as noiselessly as he opens 
it, and if you ask him a question he gives no reply — he 
is deaf and dumb. 

Three young women who had arrived in a cabriolet 
at the same moment as myself were on their knees 
before the altar, looking aghast with horror at the dis- 
torted features of a recumbent Christ, pale and miserable 
in the ashiness of death. They walked round the build- 
ing as if spell-bound, speaking only in whispers, and 
impressed with the story of the tragedy of the Royal- 
ists, as though it had occurred only the other day. The 
inscription over the doorway perpetuates the fidelity of 
the martyrs to a holy cause : " Pro Deo et rege nefarie 
trucidati." 

At Auray, in the chapel attached to the hospital, may 
be heard at times, at the benediction, the sweet voices 
of nuns who sing unseen. Their music is plaintive and 
simple, a contrast to the elaborate anthems which are 
performed in the choirs of our own cathedrals ; compo- 
sitions which so often are tedious and uninteresting, and 
deficient in that pleasing harmony which is to be found 
in the music of the Romish Church. 

It is an agreeable drive from this place to Quiberon, 
not indeed on account of the beauty of the scenery, but 



Drive to Quiberon. 



455 



because the first half of the way is so much of it heath 
and moorland, and gives a good idea of what the country 
must have been in its primaeval state. The service is 
still done by diligence, the distance being eighteen 
miles. We passed through Carnac, where we changed 
horses, and a little way beyond we came to the long 
narrow arm which juts out into the sea for many miles 
like a causeway, and connects the peninsula with the 
mainland. This causeway is only a few hundred yards 
in breadth, with nothing growing over it but stunted 
herbage, and is desolate in the extreme. An attempt 
had been made within the last few years to plant it for 
some distance with hardy trees, but they speedily died 
off, being exposed, to the fury of winds which blow from 
every quarter. At certain tides the edges of this road 
are flooded, and leave a narrow passage of scarce a 
hundred yards. For several miles you meet with no 
habitation whatever, all before you appearing a dreary, 
straight, interminable way ; but when you come to the 
peninsula you again see signs of partial cultivation, with 
an occasional hamlet, and small fields divided off by 
uncemented walls. No foliage, however, is visible, but 
there is some grand-looking coast ; and the whole has 
an air of lonely ruggedness which is anything but 
unpleasing to the eye. 

Among the passengers in the diligence were two 
young Moarecks, or students from the Theological Se- 
minary at Yannes, who were going down to recruit 
their health at the seaside, the vacation having com- 
menced the previous week. They were dressed like 
priests, in bands and cassock and three-cornered hat, 
and they told me they came from the neighbourhood of 
Hennebont, in the department of the Morbihan. They 
were tall in appearance, and quiet in demeanour, and 



456 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



the contemplative was evidently their turn of mind. 
Though the vows which they were soon about to take 
would bind them for ever as with an iron chain, one 
which, if imponderous when hands are stretched out to 
it, chafes cruelly and galls whoever tests and weighs it, 
it did not seem as though in their own case it would be 
any trial ; and the only sign of conformity to the world 
— a venial one indeed — was an indifferent cigar which 
one of them affected to be smoking, but which he threw 
away before it was half consumed. 

" Students are often delicate/' said this one ; " they 
apply so assiduously that it taxes the head, and this 
disorganises the entire body. A young man who reads 
hard requires nourishing food, and plenty of exercise in 
the open air." 

I asked him if ever any of the students gave up their 
course, and neglected to take orders ; upon which he said 
that they weigh the matter well beforehand during the 
preparatory training at the inferior seminary, so that 
when the time arrives for proceeding to the Theological 
College, their minds are entirely made up. 

"But should it so happen," I continued, "that a 
young man lost his heart, and felt that nothing would 
cure him but marrying the girl he loved, could he not 
leave the Seminary whilst yet there is time ? There is 
nothing irrevocable — there is yet no vow." 

" Oh, that never happens/' said the student mildly ; 
" his resolution has been effected long before." 

I then asked him if a youth generally went to the 
Seminary at his own desire, or if rather at the instiga- 
tion of his friends. 

"It is well in most things," replied the kloareck 
firmly, " to pay deference to the wishes of your nearest 
relatives ; but in such a serious matter as the one before 



The Poor Kloiirecks. 



457 



us, your own feelings and instincts must be consulted 
first." 

It does, however, occasionally happen, as the rector 
of the Seminary, a man of sense, assured me, that a 
student, after passing some time at College, perceives 
that his vocation is not the Church. He is allowed, of 
course, on the discovery, to withdraw ; which is just as 
it should be, otherwise the unwilling yoke of Romish 
priesthood would be nearly equivalent to a living death. 
It is well, under the circumstances, to test the aptitude 
of a youth, that the training should be severe ; for to 
make the discovery after orders only, would be equally 
so, as heavy and as intolerable a weight. 

The poor kloareck, however, like everybody else, has 
his moments of sentiment, and many of the love songs 
which are popular in the country were in olden times 
composed by these young men. The highest ambition 
of a Breton peasant is to see his son in bands and 
cassock. Even as a kloareck he is held in veneration 
by his father and mother. What, then, must it be when 
the period of his ordination has arrived? For the 
doctrine of transubstantiation, no less than the power 
of remitting sin, gives the priest, with the people, an 
unwonted elevation ; and he who has control of a 
miracle so stupendous must indeed be a being of 
superhuman kind. In the lines which follow I have 
made the poor student in love without knowing it. He 
has been brought up from childhood with the daughter 
of a neighbouring peasant ; he has attended her, when 
a girl, in sickness ; and never giving it a thought that 
the profession he is choosing will debar him for ever 
from thinking of her otherwise than as a friend, he 
sees her at last depart as an emigrant with her family, 
and bows with resignation to the fate which is in store. 



The Pardon of Giungamp. 



A word would be sufficient to keep her back ; but his 
vows, though unuttered, already are upon him — Ioul 
Done, " It is the will of God." 



EASTEE OEFEEINGS. 

Athanaise, this paschal tide 

(Holy morn remember' d well, 
Victor He so late who died), 

Comes her long adieux to tell. 

How shall heart so tender bear 
Thus to break each holy bond ? 

Not a moon may vanish ere 

She doth pass deep seas beyond. 

But she knows no cold restraint ; 

Not in warmth of other praise, 
Thine own image shall grow faint 

In the breast of Athanaise. 

Who, at pain's despairing cry, 
Once o'er restless misery hung, 

Watch'd by day the fever'd eye, 

Cool'd by night the thirsty tongue ? 

Who, when hope, long lost, return'd, 
Would fresh wreaths at morning twine, 

As the senses craved and yearn' d 
For the spring-tide's earliest sign ? 

All thy goodness to requite, 

Grifts in neither hand she brings ; 

"Violets and snowdrops white 
Are her Easter offerings. 

Violets droop and snowdrops fade ; 

But a noble soul disowns 
Gifts for glory only made, 

Costly pearls or precious stones. 

When the cold north wind shall blow 

In far lands beyond the sea, 
And sweet flowers peep through the snow, 

Athanaise will think on thee. 



Training for the Priesthood. 459 

Light was the luggage of these poor kloarecks. The 
diligence stopped to let them down about half a mile 
from the humble village by the seaside, whither they 
were going to recruit their strength. The cost of 
education at the Theological Seminary is only three 
hundred francs, or twelve pounds a year. Small as 
this sum is, should poverty have marked the kloareck 
for her own, his vacation is sometimes spent, as was the 
case with the poor Scotch student of the last century, 
in working hard to provide the means for the expenses 
of the ensuing term. Every diocese has its own college. 
At that of Vannes the candidates for orders do not all of 
them speak Breton, as the language has died out in a 
considerable portion of it. At Quimper, however, it is 
otherwise, for it is more or less spoken throughout the 
whole of Finistere, and I once, in that department, met 
an elderly priest who had difficulty in making himself 
understood in French. There is nothing monastic in 
the appearance of the seminaries, and the architecture 
is of the plainest order. In the grounds attached to 
the college at Vannes there is, however, a very pretty 
lake. 



CHAPTER XXX. 



The Peninsula. — Druidical Remains. — Superstitions. — The Royalists. 
— Madame Ballette. — A Centenarian. — A Brutal Driver. 



H 



j|E arrived at length at Quiberon, a large, com- 
pact village, with a very fair inn. This end of 
the peninsula seems studded with hamlets, 
which occur at intervals of about half a mile. It is a 
flat and rugged, but picturesque district, with neither 
trees nor shrubs, except such as grow in the gardens of 
a few of the more well-to-do inhabitants, each of them 
being an oasis in this open waste. Almost every one, 
notwithstanding, owns his little piece of land, and the 
vicinity of Quiberon presents a curious array of these 
small fields, of scarcely more than half an acre, divided 
off from one another by unmortared walls. The coast 
is rocky, though the cliffs are low. It was a glorious 
sight in the evening to see the incoming tide breaking 
wildly round them, with a dark leaden sky brooding 
sullenly over Belle Isle, an island some five leagues off. 
A bright revolving light shone gratefully in the dis- 
tance, flashing ever and anon on the gathering dark- 
ness, and then again the next moment disappearing in 
the gloom. 

Druidical remains are frequent in the peninsula. 
About a mile from Quiberon are two good menhirs, or 
peulvans, as they are called in Morbihan. It would be 
impossible to discover them without assistance. The 
largest, to all appearance, is eighteen feet high, seven 



Superstitions. 461 



feet broad at the base, and about four feet thick. I 
should have underrated its size, had I not made my 
guide stand under it, when the massiveness of the 
block at once became imposing. It has somewhat the 
aspect of the trunk of an aged tree. The next in 
importance is not quite so large, and there are one or 
two others now lying on the ground in various parts. 
At the hamlet of Le Roch there is likewise a colossal 
stone resting in such a position that several people 
could without difficulty creep beneath it. It reminds 
you somewhat of a mushroom with a broken stem. 
The people here told me that at the festival of Corpus 
Christi an altar is erected in its immediate vicinity, 
and the procession coming all the way from Quiberon 
to the spot, the usual benediction is there said or sung. 
On a low rock rising from the ground below it they 
show you the footprints of various saints. 

When standing under the menhir, my guide, who 
had all the strong faith of the people of this country, 
accounted thus for the unwonted position of the stone. 

" It was the bon Dieu" said she, " who put it in the 
position in which you see it. It never was so placed 
by man. I've lived three- and- thirty years, and not 
once during that time have I known them do a thing 
so wonderful. No, never in these days could they lift 
such a giant weight. Yonder, at the hamlet of St. 
Pierre, are several large masses which once were sol- 
diers, but were turned to stone." 

" Do you really believe that at one time they were 
soldiers?" I inquired. 

" Believe it ! Of course I do," she answered. " Does 
not the bon Dieu work miracles every day P Why, only 
three years ago, at a village not far from L' Orient, a 
farmer one morning while at breakfast ordered his 



462 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

servant to put the horse into the cart to do his ordinary 
work ; but the man, remonstrating with his master, 
asked him if he knew not it was Easter Sunday. £ God 
is asleep/ replied the farmer ; ' how then will He know 
anything at all about it ?' But no sooner had he given 
utterance to such blasphemous words than straightway 
he fell off into a trance by the hearth, clutching the 
piece of bread which he was eating in his hand ; and 
though so long a time has elapsed since it happened, 
he sleeps on still by the fire-place, nor can any one re- 
move what he is holding from his grasp. When occa- 
sionally, indeed, they attempt to rouse him, he utters a 
suppressed and melancholy moan, which lets people 
know that he is not dead, but slumbering in punish- 
ment for his profane discourse." 

The legend of the soldiers being turned to stone, 
which is current in more than one place in Brittany, 
had its origin, it is said, with the early missionaries, 
who pointed them out to their disciples as the judg- 
ments of Heaven upon unconverted Pagans. Thus 
they saw in various localities, such as St. Herbot and 
Pontusval, the remains of a giant who had slain a saint, 
and was cut up as a punishment into seventy pieces ; 
and the bodies of impious young girls who neglected 
to abstain from dancing during the passage of the con- 
secrated Host. The fact again of mass being performed 
to this day in front of the Druidical monument of St. 
Roch is a remarkable illustration of the vitality which 
the relics of old heathen rites continued to display 
in Brittany so long after the introduction of Chris- 
tianity among the mere partially- civilised inhabitants 
of the land. 

The people of Quiberon show no little politeness and 
affability to strangers. They are impressed, however, 



An Ancient Lady. 



463 



with the u nalterable conviction that the Eoyalists, on 
landing in 1795, were treacherously forsaken by their 
English allies, whose policy it was to forward their 
own aggrandisement by the weakening of contending 
parties ; and that when the nobles, finding themselves 
cut off by the Republicans, attempted in haste to regain 
their ships, the squadron most cruelly sailed away. A 
party of them, said my informant, got hold in their 
desperation of an enormous cask, and when they saw it 
floated, they essayed to make in the direction of the 
fleet ; but, as might have been expected, it very soon 
foundered, and every one who clung to it was lost. A 
woman likewise, he added, who was anxious to reach 
the Isle of Houat, waded up to her middle in the 
water, and endeavoured to get into one of the English 
boats, but the sailors who manned it threatened to 
chop off her hands, and she was compelled in conse- 
quence to let go her hold, and return in disappointment 
to the shore. 

I heard during my stay here of an ancient lady 
who, it was said, remembered many incidents of revo- 
lutionary times, and had enjoyed, moreover, the ques- 
tionable distinction of being elected goddess at one of 
the Feasts of Reason which were held at Quiberon. 

I went to call upon her, and was received most 
politely by her daughter, Mademoiselle Ballette, a 
middle-aged person, who informed me the old lady was 
engaged in her afternoon devotions at the church, but 
that she would go and fetch her. I begged of her not 
to do so, but she said her mother would be now about 
this time coming out, as she had been absent fully half 
an hour ; aud suiting thereupon the action to the word, 
she proceeded to the parish church. In five or six 
minutes I perceived the old lady come slowly past the 



464 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

window, palsied with age, and leaning on her stick. 
But though infirm and feeble, her intellects were per- 
fect, and her memory as retentive as though she had 
been burdened with the weight of only half her years. 

She gave me a full account of the affair of Quiberon, 
and told me how the Royalists had lost the day by 
advancing on a masked battery at the fortification of 
Penthievre, at the entrance of the peninsula. She 
was seated at table with her family when they heard 
the firing at a massacre shortly afterwards, and she saw 
some of the bodies, which lay for days unburied where 
they fell. 

The father of Madame Ballette, who was a private 
gentleman of the name of Lemot, was at that time 
mayor of Quiberon. The Republicans on one occasion 
came to ask him to allow his eldest daughter (the old 
lady's sister) to preside as goddess at an approaching 
feast ; but the young girl, who was only eighteen, de- 
clared to her father passionately and with tears that 
she never would consent to do so. The life of the whole 
family was placed in jeopardy by this refusal, and 
Monsieur Lemot, after pondering over the matter well 
for some time, was obliged to ask them to permit his 
child to decline the honour, as she was very bashful and 
had never been accustomed to appear in public, but 
that he knew of a little girl of five years old who would 
suit the character exactly. The soldiers at length gave 
their consent, but would not probably have been so 
easily put off had it not been for the mayor's good 
cellar, which was a most persuasive argument through- 
out. 

The same young lady was one day seated in the 
arbour in her father's garden (at the back of the house 
f*i which I now was), and whilst saying her prayers she 



Concealed Treasure. 



465 



devoutly crossed herself. She fancied in her seclusion 
that she had been seen by no one, but discovered soon 
to her cost that she had been overlooked. Being de- 
nounced by the spy, the mayor had to stand his trial, 
but was in the end acquitted, owing his deliverance, in 
all probability, to the same influential means. 

As a matter of policy thus, Monsieur Lemot was 
accustomed to entertain the Republican officers in a 
most liberal manner ; in short, for a considerable period 
he kept open house. Each of these men was accom- 
panied by a mistress, who sat down at table in company 
with her lover, and all were waited upon by the daughter 
of the mayor. In the ranks of the Republicans was a 
certain individual who boasted openly of his having 
assisted at the murder of the Duchess de Lamballe, and 
of having carried her head through the streets upon a 
pike. He afterwards married a native of Quiberon, and 
settled in the village, where his descendants still reside. 

The old lady was acquainted with a woman, at that 
time in service, and alive but a few years back, who was 
accosted one day by a Royalist, who asked her as a 
favour to conceal his treasure. If he died he promised 
to leave her the whole of it, and should he survive he 
would give her half. The girl, however, was so fright- 
ened by the risk she ran, that she at once declined this 
advantageous offer. The nobles, indeed, buried their 
treasure everywhere. Mademoiselle Ballette informed 
me that, as lately as 1842, a vessel arrived at the neigh- 
bouring hamlet where her aunt then lived ; and a party 
of men coming on shore made their way to the premises 
of her relative, and began to run lines from different 
points ; then, digging in the ground in a field attached 
to the house, in a very little time, without the slightest 
difficulty, they brought up a cask of money, so ace u- 

H H 



466 



The Pardon of Gitingamp- 



rately had their ancestors indicated the spot. She her- 
self saw the hole only four days afterwards. 

Many other anecdotes these ladies told me, but it was 
difficult to remember all. I was assured, moreover, by 
another person in the village, that Monsieur Lemot had 
undoubtedly saved the inhabitants from massacre by 
the hospitality which he at that time displayed, no less 
than by his energy and tact. 

The instinct of honesty has not at every period been 
among the distinguishing virtues of the peninsula. A 
traveller, within the memory of man, arriving one day 
at Quiberon, delivered over his valise, for the sake of 
security, into the hands of the owner of the house at 
which he had put up. The latter seized the first favour- 
able opportunity of burying his charge in the garden, 
and in the middle of the night sounded out an alarm 
that burglars were intruding on the premises. The 
first thoughts of the traveller were naturally about his 
money, and hastening out of his room, he asked the 
landlord in trepidation for his case of valuables. " Why, 
upon my honour, the villains have made away with it," 
replied mine host, in the most innocent manner possible, 
as he looked his victim steadfastly in the face. If he 
told the truth, he only told half of it ; for though 
indeed they had, he omitted to mention a most impor- 
tant circumstance, that the principal villain in this 
instance was himself. The family of this man, whose 
name was Vasseur, from a state of comparative poverty, 
became subsequently rich. 

To go back once more to the former period, one of 
the Royalists on landing, wishing for a time to conceal 
his money, threw the valise which contained it into an 
ossuary, and was observed to do so by a woman of the 
name of Jourdain, who resided in a neighbouring ham- 



A Patriarch. 



467 



let. Other people, meanwhile, found out the secret, and 
came to the determination of abstracting it after dark ; 
but the project being heard of by the woman Jourdain, 
she dressed herself up in white as a phantom, and 
succeeded to her satisfaction in scaring away her rivals, 
and securing the treasure of the emigrant for herself. 
Her family likewise, it was observed in the village, 
became afterwards extremely rich. 

Although Madame Ballette was the patriarch of 
Quiberon, and appeared to be a very aged lady, she was 
almost young in comparison with a venerable man whom 
I went to visit at the village of St. Jullien. His name 
was Aufret, and he was reported to be no less than one 
hundred and seven. It was somewhat late when I 
called at his house, andthe old man had retired to bed, 
but one of the members of the family showed me into 
his room. Though partially paralysed, he got up every 
day, and otherwise had the appearance of enjoying 
very good health. In his early life he had been a 
sailor, and, in answer to my inquiries, his son-in-law 
informed me that the naval register would make him 
only ninety-nine, and the parish records having been 
destroyed during the Revolution, it was difficult to 
arrive accurately at the real fact of the case. He was 
however, already thirty- six when he married, and his 
eldest daughter was now sixty- seven, so this would 
make him at least one hundred and four. It was some- 
what hard to make out what he said, but his family 
endeavoured to explain. 

I asked him what was the earliest circumstance he 
remembered, but he could not tell. He was born about 
ten miles from St. Jullien, and was a prisoner in England 
during the Reign of Terror at Nantes, in which city he 
had previously been in service. He had, however, seen 



468 The Pardon of Gut7igamp. 



a priest and two women guillotined at Brest. Whilst 
in detention in this country he had several times at- 
tempted to escape, but though momentarily successful, 
was always caught. He had worked when in England 
for a lady of the name of Yorke. His weight of years 
sat unusually light upon this venerable patriarch, and 
he did not look older than many men of ninety. Indeed, 
as his bodily health was good, and his faculties yet 
sound, there appeared no reason why he should not live 
yet for a considerably longer time. 

By the way in which the evening angelus tolled out 
at Quiberon the inhabitants knew that on the morrow 
there would be a funeral service for the souls of six 
hapless sailors who were wrecked upon the coast two 
months ago. Several masses had been already said, 
and it appeared only likely that the sea was to be their 
final tomb, for their bodies had not as yet been cast 
ashore. 

The journey by diligence back from the peninsula 
was not altogether of the most agreeable character. 
We had only proceeded a few miles from Quiberon, 
when I drew the attention of the driver to the miserable 
condition of one of his horses, from whose chest big 
drops of blood were falling into the road. A few days 
previous he had lashed his animals to the highest speed, 
though covered with open sores, which stained the poles 
and cords of the vehicle, in order that he might have 
an extra quarter of an hour to drink at a public-house 
by the roadside, being bound to do the journey in a 
given time. Now again the poor brute's collar was 
dyed with blood, and a ghastly wound was found in his 
chest, caused by the friction of some protruding sub- 
stance. The driver, though quite a young man, was 
hardened and cruel, and though I had before drawn his 



Box for the Sick Poor. 



469 



attention to the condition of his horses, he had taken 
scarce the faintest notice ; but seeing now the hideous 
open wound, and a large pool of blood so quickly formed 
beneath it, he had no alternative but to go into a house 
to obtain cold water, with which to bathe the wretched 
creature's chest. 

I protested against his going any further with the 
same horse, and told him he ought to hire another at 
the first convenient opportunity. He would not, how- 
ever, hear of it, his only reply being that the animal 
would carry us perfectly well to our journey's end ; and 
he then added coolly, " When he'll fall, hell fell." 
Sooner than countenance such gross barbarity, I pre- 
ferred forfeiting the place for which I had paid at 
Quiberon, and as the mail-cart fortunately happened to 
come up at the same moment, I secured a seat in the 
latter vehicle to Oarnac. I expected every moment 
after this to see the poor brute drop down exhausted 
into the road, but he managed somehow to keep ahead 
of us, notwithstanding that other passengers and luggage 
were subsequently taken up. 



TEONO POUR LES PAUVRES MALADES. 



It hath not yet, my Saviour, ceased ? 

He giveth all to Thee, 
Who gives to one of Thine, though least 

That lone disciple be. 

Done in that blessed name, who knows 
What good approval stored ? 

So this poor gift I here depose 
Into Thy hands, Lord ! 



47 o The Pardon of Guingamp. 



A void how small soe'er to fill, 

A little life renew, 
In some sad heir of fleshly ill, 

To me so much more due. 

The festering wounds of one to bind, 

In lowly garb if deck'd, 
"No less, Eedeemer of mankind, 

Thy friend and Thy elect. 

His day, though bleak and cold, is short, 

And coming soon the time 
To go to a far fairer court 

Than is in this rude clime. 

If so Divine compassion move 

(No merit claims the deed), 
Me might a pitying eye approve, 

In my sore time of need. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 




Pilgrimage of St. Anne d'Auray. — Vincent Grosdoit. — The Railway. — 
Origin of the Pilgrimage. — A Notable Convert. — Miracles. — The 
Village. — New Church. — Pilgrims. — The Pardon. — The Bishop's 
Cousin. — The Procession. — The Discourse. — Early Mass. — Com- 
bourg. — Chateaubriand. — La Bretagne. 

HOUGH almost every village in the province 
has its annual Pardon, which is more or less 
frequented, according to the reputation and 
power of working miracles of its patron saint, many 
of these enjoy little more than a local celebrity; whilst 
that of Gruingamp and St. Jean du Doigt, as we have 
seen, stand high in the estimation of all true believers. 
Beyond all question, however, the holy city of the 
Breton pilgrimage is St. Anne d'Auray, a journey to 
whose shrine is the highest aspiration of every faithful 
soul. St. Anne was the mother of the Virgin Mary, 
and the relief and consolation which she has from time 
immemorial afforded to the devout could only be told 
by those who have tested her unquestioned powers. 

Is a poor man suffering from some incurable disease, 
and has every method he has hitherto employed failed 
to afford him an alleviation for his ill ? He vows at 
last a pilgrimage to her shrine, and will place a tablet 
on the hallowed wall, should the saint be softened by 
his sad appeal. Is a mother in trouble about a wayward 
child ? Is a father weighed down by anxious poverty ? 
Is an absent son wandering in distant lands ? Is a 
heart oppressed by some secret grief? There is here a 



472 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



refuge to which all may fly ; and the tenderness of the 
saint for mortals in distress is haply testified by witness 
to her innumerable good deeds. " Oh, mother of the 
blessed Virgin Mary, I have not invoked thine aid 
in vain ! " 

Worn out by the fatigues of wearisome marches in 
a tropical country, weakened by intermittent fever, 
harassed by frequent fighting and incessant watching, 
awed by the tragic murder of a courageous monarch, 
the survivors of the Mexican contingent vowed a vow, 
when in that inhospitable country, that if ever they 
returned safe to the land of their forefathers, they 
would make a pilgrimage to this far-famed shrine. 
Their vow was countenanced by the commander of the 
fleet, so that when the transports returned to Brest, one 
big ship came and lay off Quiberon, and a certain pro- 
portion of the troops were brought ashore, and walked 
devotionally from thence to the chief earthly habitation 
of the compassionate lady who had brought them safe 
through the manifold perils of that deadly campaign. 

I had heard a great deal in every part of Brittany of 
the virtues of the mother of the Virgin Mary, and was 
told that some years ago, on the day of the Pardon, the 
road leading to the village of St. Anne was lined with 
vehicles for upwards of a mile. Since the construction 
of the railway, however, the crow T d of people on her 
fete day is considerably less, and devotees now, from 
some quarter or other, make their pilgrimage, without 
reference to this great occasion, almost every day 
throughout the year. 

It is not, indeed, the inhabitants of Brittany alone 
who seek her shrine, for I was told, when at St. Gildas, 
of an English lady who was about to make a journey 
thither for the recovery of her health. I was able 



A Miracle. 



473 



shortly afterwards to identify her, for I happened, when 
at Yannes, to be stopping at the same hotel. I saw her 
again at the period of the Pardon, when she flitted 
occasionally across my path, and I could not but wish 
she might find what she sought, even though an ardent 
imagination should usurp the recognised functions of 
the much-loyed saint. 

Whilst sojourning at Quimperle I had heard of one 
notable miracle (for so it is designated) from a relative 
of the person who was principally concerned. A boy 
twelve years of age, by name Vincent Grosdoit, was, on 
the 14th of August, 1832, amusing himself by the side 
of the river at Rohan, in the neighbourhood of Vannes, 
while two of his companions were paddling up and 
down the stream. The youth tried after a time to get 
into the boat, but lost his footing and fell into the 
water. Overlooking the current was a mill of three 
wheels, and the miller's wife, who was standing at her 
window and saw the accident, shrieked out as she 
watched him about to pass beneath them, " Sauvez-lui, 
sauvez-lui, Sainte Anne d'Auray ! " The child was 
hurried onward to the extremity of the mill, and was 
taken out by a soldier without the slightest harm. 
Astonished at an event which was nothing short of 
miraculous, a cat was subsequently thrown into the 
stream, to ascertain the distance between wheel and 
water, and, as a matter of course, it was dashed to bits. 
A rat with a piece of linen attached to it was next 
dropped in, and both rat and linen were torn to shreds. 
The votive tablet commemorating the circumstance, 
my informant told me, was to be seen in the chapel at 
the village of St. Anne. 

There is now a railway within three miles of the 
place. A week before, while the train was stopping 



474 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



at a station in the vicinity, an aged priest got up into 
the carriage in which I was, and in the interval between 
his devotions the following conversation took place 
between us : — 

Stranger. — " What a curious idea to make a pilgrim- 
age by railway ! It hardly seems in keeping with the 
solemnity of the object. Though I could understand 
it better in any other vehicles, I should always connect 
the occurrence with a journey made on foot." 

Priest. — " And why not by railway ? You arrive 
at your destination considerably sooner ; besides which, 
this mode of travelling is far more comfortable than in 
the old stage coaches. Here at least you have ample 
room. In a diligence you used formerly to be quite 
cramped up, and were totally unable to stretch your 
legs. There are fewer accidents, moreover, by railway 
than by coach." 

Stranger. — "I have heard that many wonderful 
occurrences are still noted at St. Anne. It is difficult to 
realise miracles in such close proximity to a railway 
station." 

Priest. — " Why not ? It's all according to faith. The 
Creator is able out of any materials to effect what He 
chooses. Look, for instance, at a pastrycook with his 
cakes : he moulds them at his will. You've studied 
history ? Perhaps you may remember the name of 
Saul, afterwards St. Paul — a Jew, a very wicked man, 
a blasphemer, a persecutor ? Where was he going ? He 
was going to Damascus to make havoc of the church. 
Well, what happened to him ? He became at length a 
most eminent Catholic — mind you, not a Protestant, a 
Catholic. No, nothing is impossible by the grace of 
God." 

It was evidently an idiosyncrasy with this old gentle- 



Tradition of Image. 



475 



man, as was the case with almost every priest I have 
met in Brittany, that no happiness was to be anticipated 
in a future existence out of the pale of what is called 
the Church. Notwithstanding, to show him that as 
regarded my own creed I held more liberal opinions, I 
told him that, though a Protestant, I could well believe 
that as a Catholic he was a very good man ; and as a 
proof of the conviction, on arriving at our journey's 
end, as he was stout and unwieldy, I tendered him my 
hand and assisted him to alight. 

Two hundred and fifty years ago, the site of the 
village of St. Anne was a wild, uncultivated heath, but 
the tradition of a chapel in the remoter ages dedicated 
to the mother of the Virgin Mary was preserved in 
the name of the locality, Keranna, or the place of 
Anne. The story of the apparition of the saint, as 
seen by the labourer Mcolazic in the early part of the 
seventeenth century, and of candles borne by a mys- 
terious hand, is gravely told by a modern historian, a 
Jesuit priest, the Rev. Father Martin, and the wonders 
of spiritualism in the present day are as nothing when 
compared with it. The miraculous discovery of the 
sacred image by the light of one of these unwonted 
torches was long discredited by the clergy of the parish ; 
but the curate was punished by an incurable disease, 
and the rector soon afterwards smitten with paralysis, 
of which he only got the mastery by a stealthy visit 
at night, as a penitent, to the scene of his incredulity. 

The order for the erection of a church to her honour 
had been given in the following words to the labourer, 
one eventful evening, by the saint herself: — "Yves 
Nicolazic, have no fear. It's I, St. Anne, the mother 
of the Virgin Mary. Go tell your pastor that in the 
midst of the field which is called Bocenno there existed 



476 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



formerly, before ever there was a village, a celebrated 
chapel, the first erected to myself in Brittany. It is 
now nine hundred and twenty-four years and six months 
to-day that the building was destroyed, and I wish it to 
be restored under your own direction. It is the will of 
the Almighty that veneration should again be accorded 
to my name." 

Like the prodigy of the sacred finger, " quoiqu'il 
en soit, il fit grand bruit ; " and eighty thousand 
pilgrims have been known to assemble on the same 
day. The fame of the occurrences reached the ears of 
Louis XIII. and Anne of Austria, and, at the request 
of the Queen, daily prayers were henceforth offered up 
for the advent of a dauphin to their childless house. 
Nine years subsequently, and two-and-twenty after 
their marriage, they were gladdened by the cry of their 
first-born son, who, Louis le Dieudonne, reigned sixty 
years over a prosperous and happy France. 

If this extraordinary homage had its rise in super- 
stition, it was not unconnected with occasional good. 
They still tell the tale of the wild and reckless owner 
of the Chateau de Kerloi, Pierre le Gouvello de Keriolet, 
a member of the ancient Parliament of Brittany, who 
robbed his father and fled to Turkey, in order that he 
might abjure the religion of his country, and who one 
night, in the midst of a most terrible thunder-storm, 
opened his window, and, in defiance of the Almighty, 
discharged his pistols at the rolling clouds. Converted 
suddenly whilst passing the chapel of a certain nunnery, 
he returned to his manor-house in the neighbourhood 
of St. Anne, and sought henceforward, in open rupture 
with the world, nothing but to do his neighbour the 
very utmost good, to subdue the will, and to mortify 
the flesh. 

The elegant attire, which hitherto had been one of 



A Notable Convert. 477 



the passions of his life, now gave place to garments of 
the very humblest kind, and shunning the society of 
the powerful and wealthy, he associated exclusively 
with the miserable and poor. Condemning himself 
pitilessly to a three years' fast on water and the 
coarsest bread, this hard, scanty nourishment he mingled 
with his tears, and partook of only every third day. 
To each lengthened journey, which before he had 
undertaken with some guilty motive, he now opposed 
a corresponding pilgrimage on foot, and his weary 
marches to Rome, to Milan, to St. J ames of Compostella, 
would, if put together, have made the circuit of the 
globe.. To add humility to his appearance, he begged 
his way, and gave the alms which were bestowed upon 
him to deserving poor. To hunger and thirst; to the 
cruelty of strangers ; to the cold of the bare ground, 
too often white with snow, on which he slept, were 
added the tortures he endured from chronic illness, 
and the self-inflicted penance of pointed iron which 
lacerated his bleeding feet. 

Seven, eight, and even ten hours at a time would 
this earnest penitent remain praying on his knees. His 
once boisterous mansion, noisy now no longer, was 
transformed into a hospital, the doorkeeper of which 
was its humble owner, who went out into the highways 
to bring in the indigent and sick, esteeming himself 
happy, if their strength should fail them, to carry 
them on his shoulders to his welcome roof ; or if the 
distance proved too long, he would, like the good Sama- 
ritan in the parable, confide them to the care of some 
householder by the way. 

At the solicitation of the bishop he was admitted 
into orders, and at evening he would lead his con- 
valescent guests to the neighbouring chapel of Our Lady 
of Pity, where, by his touching instructions, he would 



I 



478 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

melt the most rebellious heart, exhorting all to bear 
their sufferings with patience, and to make life a 
preparation for a happy death. 

" It was to St. Anne he conducted sinners ; 99 and 
when no longer able to reach her sanctuary his joy 
was to ascend to the roof of his mansion, that he might 
view the tower from afar, and throw himself on his 
knees in sight of it. When his end was approaching, 
as one final consolation, he was carried in suffering 
to her shrine, and would have wished to breathe 
his last in such a holy place. His reproaches were 
bitter for having hurt so grievously the best of parents, 
after indulgences so numerous, and the pardon of such 
unnumbered faults. 

The struggle with death in the end was great. " My 
God, what agony ! Oh, if it should please Thee, one 
interval of relief ! " but not a murmur or complaint 
escaped his lips. As the moment of dissolution ap- 
proached, with outstretched arms, as though a victim 
on the cross, he awaited the command of Heaven, and 
on the 8th of October, 1660, eleven days after the death 
of St. Vincent de Paul, his friend, he expired at the 
age of fifty- eight years. 

His body was interred at the foot of the high altar ; 
and though one of the most munificent amongst the 
benefactors to the church, he affected during life to 
doubt whether a favour so great could be accorded 
him, professing he would be only too happy if the 
last rites of sepulture were performed by the hand of 
charity for such a miserable being as himself. 

The inscription on his tomb runs thus : — 

" Ci-git Pierre de Keriolet 
Conquete de Marie. 
II en fut le fidele et zele seryiteur." 



Further Miracles. 



479 



Some few small relics, such as a portion of his cassock 
and his hat, have been religiously preserved in the vestry 
of the church. The miracles performed by St. Anne, 
but especially those of the seventeenth century, are 
stupendous in their nature. Innumerable are the dead 
who have been raised to life by her agency, the blind 
who have been restored to sight, the dumb to speech, 
the deaf to hearing, the lame to the use of their limbs. 
The names of bishops of every diocese, and the highest 
nobles and landed proprietors of the province, have 
been at one time or another associated with her cause. 
Shipwrecks have been prevented, accidents have been 
obviated, mad dogs made harmless, naval engagements 
have been won, men ' sold into slavery by the Turks 
have been delivered, and the innocent have had their 
wrongs redressed, through the powerful influence of 
this exalted saint. 

Joachim de Cerisay, chaplain to Mary de Medicis, 
found himself on one occasion in disgrace with the 
Queen, and banished from the kingdom ; nor were his 
entreaties with Cardinal Richelieu sufficient to avail 
himself aught. He was restored to favour by the in- 
tercession of St. Anne ; but ungrateful for her kindness, 
he forgot his vows, and it was only the warning voice 
of a dangerous illness which reminded him of the solemn 
promises he had made. A Norman farmer, proceeding 
quietly to a fair at Caen, found himself up to his waist 
in the dangerous quicksands of the bay of Mont St. 
Michel, awaiting every moment the rising of the 
tide ; but a sudden invocation of the name of this pro- 
tectress delivered him in a moment from his awkward 
plight. 

The most notable of the miracles occurred in the early 
part of the seventeenth century, and were sworn to 



480 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



solemnly by witnesses in the presence of crown lawyers 
and district judges, receiving the formal sanction like- 
wise of Monseigneur Sebastien de Rosmadec, Bishop 
of Vannes, at his episcopal residence of Kerango, in 
April, 1632. It would be unreasonable to doubt, after 
such a weight of evidence, that amid much pious fraud 
and transparent error, occasional cures of long- standing 
maladies may have been suddenly and unaccountably 
effected in the neighbourhood of this place ; and these 
may be esteemed miraculous precisely in the same sense 
as the results of a vivid imagination acting upon highly- 
strung nerves and a sensitive constitution are referred 
by enthusiastic minds to faith. 

To admit the probability of an individual being raised 
to life, after lying for the space of eight hours in the 
water, by the simple pronunciation over the body of the 
words " St. Anne/' or that a child with a broken neck 
may have been restored to perfect health an hour and a 
half after death by the simple means of the same mystic 
invocation, is happily not required of us in the present 
age ; and to discuss the agency of the saint, even in the 
most likely instance, it is needless to say, we do not for 
a moment here attempt. 

Night was setting in as I approached the village, and 
the vehicle in which I drove was continually overtaking 
groups of peasants walking on in silence to the scene of 
the impending Pardon. Patches of wild heath were 
distinguishable in the twilight, sufficient to indicate 
what the condition of the country was before the mem- 
bers of the fraternity began the cultivation of the lands, 
two centuries and a half ago. The journey at an end, 
we passed at length into what appeared to be a crowded 
street, and drew up at the door of a very bustling hotel. 
I inquired for accommodation, but was informed by the 



Village of St. Anne. 



people of the house that I could only share a room with 
another party, the place being already full. 

There was another and larger establishment a little 
higher up, and thither I wended my way. The kitchen 
of this hostelry opened into the street, and was garnished 
with eatables of every sort, while cooks with their assist- 
ants were boiling and frying and preparing dinner for 
quite a crowd of guests. The house was large, and ap- 
peared capable of accommodating at least sixty people, 
and the landlady at last, after considerable hesitation, 
promised me an apartment at any rate for the night, at 
twice the usual price, on condition of my vacating it on 
the following day, the eve of the Pardon, unless the 
party for whom it had been retained should fail to come. 
The pilgrims possibly may have been imaginary in this 
instance, and I retained my quarters until I left the 
place on the morning of the third day. 

Although now too dark to distinguish much, I made 
my way gradually round the village, to obtain an insight 
into what was going on. At the end of the street in 
which the hotels are situated is an archway reminding 
you of Temple Bar, which leads into an extensive square 
or court, something in the style of the precincts of a 
cathedral, though not nearly so pretentious or pic- 
turesque. One side of it is occupied by small shops, de- 
voted principally to the sale of consecrated knick-knacks 
and other similar reminiscences of St. Anne. These 
houses were built originally for the accommodation of 
pilgrims, though others have since sprung up, and the 
village is growing gradually into quite a little town. 

The church is situated in the centre of the square, 
and another side is taken up by the extensive buildings 
of what, previous to the Revolution, was a Carmelite 
monastery, but now the Petit Seminaire, or inferior 

i i 



482 



The Pardon of Guinga7np. 



college for the diocese of Vannes. Above the archway is 
a chapel or altar, at which mass is celebrated on great 
occasions ; and the stairs leading up to it on either side 
are called the Sancta Scala, in imitation of those at a yet 
more celebrated place. The whole range of buildings, 
however, the church itself included, is constructed in 
the severe and ugly style of the seventeenth century, 
and lacks in this respect the poetry of older shrines. 
Attached to the Seminary are some very pleasant 
grounds, with meadows and fish-ponds, and umbrageous 
alleys of chestnut trees and limes. 

A new and more capacious church is now rising round 
the original, so as in no way to interfere with it ; and 
the latter will only be taken down when the other is 
completed, in perhaps four or five years' time. The 
architecture of this more costly structure is not, unfor- 
tunately, of the highest order, and the tower of the 
existing edifice is evidently included in the future plan. 

Though only half-past nine in the evening, the 
doors were closed, but groups of people who had just 
arrived were on their knees in devotion at the space in 
front. In the principal thoroughfare rude tents of 
canvas stretched over bent cane were sheltering not a 
few of them for the night, while several who had stalls 
of merchandise, and others who could not afford to pay 
for lodging, were already sleeping in the open air. 
The night was not long, and every one was stirring at 
a very early hour. In the cloisters by the Seminary 
pilgrims were accomplishing the circuit of the stations, 
and praying before the cahaire in the centre of the 
court. One party of eight or nine of them was under 
the leadership of a woman, who at every different pic- 
ture recited aloud the office for the benefit of the rest. 
Half-way down the street, a flight of three steps, like a 



Ex-voto Pictures. 



483 



low amphitheatre, goes down to the level of the sacred 
fountain, and here vast crowds were partaking of the 
waters, and washing carefully their legs and feet ; 
whilst more than one patient afflicted with rheumatism 
was pouring it, as is the custom, down the sleeve. 

The people flocked in as the day advanced, and 
almost all of them, as a token, bore a bunch of grain ; 
the women carrying it generally in their hands, and 
the men on their hats ; and it is a common saying on 
this great occasion, that he who is not provided with a 
stalk of millet has not made the pilgrimage of St. Anne. 
Services were going on in the church during the entire 
day, and it was next to impossible to move down the 
aisle. The walls were covered with ex-voto pictures, 
many of them apparently two hundred years old, and 
represented generally houses on fire, or people strug- 
gling in the water, or lying on their couches at the 
point of death, whilst the saint comes in as a deliverer 
in every case. All of them had inscriptions explana- 
tory of the subject ; thus — 

" Henri Evenon, surprised by a tempest near Belle 
Isle, vows to St. Anne, and the sea becomes calm/' 

" A child given over by the doctors, being dedicated 
to- St. Anne, vomits a serpent with two heads, and is 
cured/' 

" Gruillaume Grelin, bitten by an enraged dog, vows 
to St. Anne, and obtains a perfect cure, 1631." 

" Agu de Caro, mortally wounded in the head by 
two blows with a knife, vows to St. Anne, and obtains 
a speedy cure." 

" Yves Nicolazic, labourer, discovered the miraculous 
image of St. Anne, died in the odour of sanctity, 13th 
of May, 1645, and is buried in this church." 

The tablet in commemoration of the miracle of which 



484 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



I had heard wheD at Quimperle I had 110 difficulty in 
discovering ; it was worded thus :• — " Vincent Grosdoit, 
aged 12, fell into the mill with three wheels, at Rohan, 
near Vannes, on the 14th of August, 1832, and was 
saved." 

In another corner of the church I lighted on the 
following, which ought in reality to be placed side by 
side with the original ; and which, if not a clumsy 
imitation, presents at least a most singular identity in 
occurrence, time, and name : — 

" Vincent Grosait, aged 6, fell into the mill at 
Pontivy of one wheel, on the 13th of July, 1833, and 
was saved." 

At the conclusion of a mass, which was celebrated 
about eleven o'clock, the officiating priest from the 
altar proclaimed aloud, in French and Breton, the most 
alluring rewards for those who gave countenance to 
the completion of the building which was now being 
raised to the greater honour of their patron saint. On 
every first Saturday in the month there would be a 
service at six o'clock for all the subscribers to the 
church, both dead and living ; and on all Sundays and 
fete days for ever, special prayers would be said for 
them at three different masses in the day. They would 
likewise have a remembrance in the six thousand masses 
which are said every year in the chapel of the pil- 
grimage ; and their names would be inscribed in a 
particular register, kept as a special and honourable 
witness of filial piety towards St. Anne. 

I seized an opportunity subsequently to inquire of 
this priest if he had heard of any miracles during the 
past year. He replied, that to place them under the 
category of miracles required the approbation of the 
highest authority, but that many wonderful cures had 



Service in the Chtirch. 



485 



been performed by the intercession of the saint. Within 
the last two days he had received a letter from a phy- 
sician, acquainting him with the case of a young 
person who had been ill for five years, and had been 
given up at length by her medical advisers. Her 
friends in the end made a vow for her to St. Anne, and 
at the moment of the elevation of the Host, a change 
for the better became perceptible, and was followed by 
an immediate cure. 

To secure the benefits thus promised to the faithful, 
the people all day long were flocking into the vestry 
to give their money and inscribe their names. A 
countryman in a blouse, as he made his exit, stopped 
and accosted me with a mingled feeling of satisfaction 
and disappointment : " If my lord the bishop had been 
now in the sacristy I might have addressed him as a 
relative, for I myself am of the family of Becel ; he's 
not a first or a second, but a third cousin. I am, how- 
ever, but a stranger in the place, and with all these 
Messieurs Pretres, I do not like altogether to remain." 

The presence of Monseigneur was expected for the 
vespers, and about half an hour after the time appointed 
he drove in from Vannes. A student from the Seminary, 
who was acting as doorkeeper, had orders from that 
moment to keep the passage clear, and refuse all ad- 
mittance. Exception, however, was made in favour 
of a stranger, and I passed on into the vestry, where 
bishop and priests were putting on their robes. From 
thence I made my way up into a very small gallery, 
which was capable of containing only about a dozen 
people. The service began with an overture on a brass 
band by the students of the Seminary, and lasted alto- 
gether about half an hour. At the conclusion I ascended 
to the summit of the tower, and saw from thence the 



486 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



procession which subsequently took place. Doubts as 
to its accomplishment had been originally entertained, 
as the rain had been pouring down incessantly since 
the morning, but happily towards four o'clock there 
was an interval of fine weather, which lasted till the 
conclusion of the ceremony at six. 

It was a curious sight from such an altitude to see 
the crowds below ; and amid the deafening clang of 
bells, the tones of the brass band, and the sonorous 
chanting, to watch the lengthened train of priests and 
people defiling slowly through the precincts to the 
furthest extremities of the town. The mud was ankle 
deep, and the bishop in his clean stockings, with mitre 
and crozier, had something to do to pick his way 
through the dirt, at the same time with studied atti- 
tudes dispensing his blessing continually as he went 
along. 

Not without beauty are many of the hymns in honour 
of the mother of the Virgin Mary. 

"AVE KADIX." 

Eoot of sweet Flower, hail, who livest ! 
* (One, but one, more honour show'd her !) 
Who perennial fragrance givest, 
Fragrance of celestial odour. 

Thee we hail with deep devotion, 

And with fondness ne'er abating, 
Ever, brilliant star of ocean, 

Son and mother contemplating. 

Hear us : to the safely vaulted, 

Soon from earthly tempest's roaring, 

To the glory of th' exalted, 

Us, poor exiles, home restoring. 

Home so bright with constellations ; 

Hail who did by pureness merit, 
That from thee the hope of nations 

Should His earthly blood inherit. 



A Comforting Discourse. 



487 



Pickle if we seek another, 

Cease thenceforth thine aid to lend us ; 

Not till then to Son and mother 
Be forgetful to commend us. 

The procession returned to the precincts through the 
archway, and the bishop, ascending to the altar by the 
Sancta Scala, began, with a powerful and commanding 
voice, a discourse in the French language on the subject 
of the day. His lordship, though a Breton, is what is 
termed a g allot, i.e., he is a native of that part of 
Brittany in which the ancient tongue has died out ; and 
he has not, like his episcopal brother of St. Brieuc, 
acquired the language of the diocese into which he has 
come. 

He began by reminding the attentive crowd that as 
fidelity to St. Anne had ever been with themselves a 
characteristic virtue, so they ought, as good Bretons, to 
take especial heed to transmit that loyalty to their 
children's children. He had lately been to Rome, and 
had seen the Pope, to whom he had shown the photo- 
graph of the new church, with which he was extremely 
pleased, and his Holiness, whose health was now ex- 
cellent, had been pleased to accord the same indulgences 
to pilgrims who made their journey to St. Anne on 
any day in the year whatsoever, as to those who 
came on the occasion of the fete. The sermon con- 
cluded, the benediction was repeated, and the crowd, 
which was very great, dispersed. On passing down the 
street, I overheard a conversation between two of the 
country-people, who had been greatly edified by the 
bishop's words. " What a beautiful discourse ! " said 
one of them. " Did you hear what he told us ? I 
caught a great deal of it." " Ah, what did he say ?" 
" He told us to put our confidence in St. Anne." And 



488 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



fortified by this comfortable doctrine, the friends walked 
onwards to ponder on the incidents of the stirring day. 

There was during the continuation of this Pardon 
but very little amusement going on in the village, it 
being almost exclusively a religious fete. Among the 
few observable speculators were a travelling clairvoy- 
ante in a small wheeled van, the family in appearance 
from the South of France ; and the past, the present, 
and the future were revealed by the prophetess for four 
sous only, nor was the money expected if the revelation 
was untrue. 

On the following morning I rose before sunrise to 
hear the pilgrims' mass, which was said from the altar 
of the Sancta Scala, at four o'clock. Ascending by a 
ladder to the scaffolding of the new church, I could well 
survey the multitude on every side. There were people 
there from a distance of a hundred miles, and probably 
many who had come from further. Amongst them 
were women from St. Malo and Rennes, from Nantes 
and Lamballe, from Guingamp and Treguier, from 
Plessay and Quilly, from Alleres, L' Orient, and Redon. 
Many of these were distinguishable by their head-dress, 
and I noticed the day before three queer-looking 
bonnets, whose type I had observed in the lonely 
district by the sea- coast, between Lanvollon and Plouha, 
seven years ago. 

It was an impressive sight to look down upon the 
people, and to hear, in the grey light of the morning, 
the low murmur of response surging deeply and 
solemnly through the anxious crowd. A moment 
succeeds of the intensest silence ; the faintest breath, a 
whisper would be audible. It is a moment of awe, of 
hope, of unfathomable devotion. It is broken by the 
warning of the sacramental bell. The Host is elevated, 



Chateau de Combourg, 489 



the vow is consummated, the sacrifice is made. One 
final blessing on the thousands of wayfarers who would 
meet together no more on earth, but who hoped to 
assemble at some future day in a place where secret 
sorrows cannot enter, and where harassing anxieties 
are unknown, and where the vow and the pilgrimage 
need no more be made. 

After a somewhat lengthened journey, it was not 
unsatisfactory to arrive in the afternoon at Combourg, 
a village which, though not very noticeable in itself, is 
well worth a visit on account of its fine old feudal 
mansion, the property of the Chateaubriand family. 
The parish church, which was being restored by the 
present owner of the estate, is a handsome building at 
the entrance of the place, while the castle is situated at 
the further end. It is a grand old structure, flanked 
with towers surmounted by pinnacles, with pointed 
roof. Standing on a slight eminence or precipice, which 
overlooks the public road, the entrance is on the 
opposite side, through a grassy court, surrounded par- 
tially by avenues, and is approached by a rapid flight 
of steps. 

Passing through the doorway, you come into a vesti- 
bule with vaulted ceiling, and thence into an inner 
hall. The walls of the buildings are of the thickness 
of eight or ten feet, and the embrasures of the narrow 
windows in many of the apartments are so deep that 
they form almost little chambers of themselves. The 
whole is made up of a perfect labyrinth of rooms, some 
of them leading one into the other ; and amongst them 
is one called the hall of armour, the ceiling of which 
was decorated with shields and painted birds. It 
would be impossible for a stranger to find his way 
through the building, abounding as it does with 



49° The Pardon of Guingamp. 

galleries and staircases, cells and passages, and gloomy- 
vaults. You have a view from the roof of the surround- 
ing country, and of the ponds beneath, past which, 
when a child, the poet watched the two Breton noble- 
men on horseback, as they left the chateau on a frosty 
morning, on their way to the Parliament at Rennes. 

It must have been an interesting sight in the last 
century for the good people of St. Malo to gaze on the 
huge old-fashioned coach, with double-gilt panels and 
projecting steps, drawn by eight horses with bells at 
their necks, standing at the gate of the city wall, as the 
family got into it on their way to Combourg. The 
poet tells us that for four hours they passed nothing 
but heath fringed with wood, stunted furze, and short 
black corn, now and then meeting colliers and trains of 
small horses with long shaggy manes ; whilst peasants 
clad in goat-skins, and with dishevelled hair, were urging 
on their lean cattle with shrill cries, or following here 
and there an antiquated plough. The Viscount, who 
had gone on before, came out to meet them, and his 
habitual stern and gloomy countenance was lightened 
for the moment with something like a smile. 

The inmates of the chateau were completely lost in a 
building so vast, and instead of nestling together in 
some neighbouring quarter, their chambers were scat- 
tered far apart. That of the Viscount was in a little 
tower in the east, while his study, adorned with all 
sorts of arms, from a pistol to a blunderbuss, lay com- 
pletely remote from it in the far west. The room 
occupied by his youngest son was a small isolated 
apartment in a tower at the top of a staircase which 
opens into the inner court ; and at the foot of this 
staircase, in a vaulted cellar, slept two of the men- 
servants, whilst the cook held aloof in the great tower 



Life at Combourg. 491 

in the west. The poet, as a child, before he retired, 
was wont, in his horror of the spiritual visitors which 
might haunt the chateau, to cast his eye cautiously up 
the chimney, and to peer beneath the bed ; for a certain 
old Count of Combourg, who died three centuries 
before, had returned to the galleries ever since at 
midnight, rattling up and down with his wooden leg, 
in company with a black cat. The Viscount, with an 
ironical smile, used occasionally to rally the child upon 
the subject, and ask him whether Monsieur le Chevalier 
was afraid. Sooner, however, than have acknowledged 
his fears, he would have braved as an alternative the 
society of a corpse. His mother, on the contrary, and 
not without success, endeavoured to reassure him. 
" My son," she would say to him, " everything which 
happens is by the will of Grod ; you have nothing to 
fear from evil spirits as long as you are a good 
Christian." 

The mode of life at the chateau, with but seldom any 
visitor, was none of the liveliest. In the long winter 
evenings, after the conclusion of supper at eight o'clock, 
Madame de Chateaubriand would throw herself with a 
sigh upon the sofa, whilst Francois would sit by the 
fire with Lucile, his youngest sister, and the old Vis- 
count would occupy the remainder of the evening until 
bedtime in walking moodily backwards and forwards 
through tbe long apartment, looking, as he emerged 
from the obscurity at the further end into the light of 
the solitary candle, like a moving spectre, with his tall, 
thin figure in a white robe and cap ; and no sooner had 
the clock struck ten, which was the signal for his retir- 
ing, than the children, freed from the awe of his presence, 
would begin without restraint to laugh and talk. 

It was little wonder if the sombre shadow of this 



49 2 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



picturesque old chateau reflected itself strongly in the 
impressible dispositions of its youthful inmates ; and it 
was the delight of Francois to wander by himself at 
sunset to the Druidical monuments on a neighbouring 
plain, and seat himself in deep thought on one or other 
of the giant stones. The more gloomy the season, the 
more did he enjoy it, and nothing gave him greater plea- 
sure than to watch the flight of swans and wood-pigeons 
in tempestuous weather, and to see the rooks assemble 
in the meadow by the pond, and settle down at nightfall 
in the avenue on the lofty oaks. In summer-time again 
his enthusiasm was excited by the bursting of the storm, 
and the rolling of the thunder-cloud through the mas- 
sive timberwork in the ancient towers ; by the lightning 
as it furrowed the opposing clouds and momentarily 
illuminated the metal vanes ; and the rain falling in 
torrents on the pointed roof. 

Not less remarkable was the effect of this old mansion, 
with its quaint surroundings, on the thoughtful spirit 
of his youngest sister; and the unsociable disposition 
of the Viscount must have made her look forward with 
anything but pleasure to the change from a lively 
town by the sea to a place so silent and so gloomy. 
The poet, writing in after years, has naturally thrown 
a halo of romance over the recollections of his youth ; 
and he says that Lucile, in her attitude, her melan- 
choly, and her gracefulness, resembled a funereal genius. 
Already at seventeen she wished to bury herself in a 
cloister, and regretted that the days of childhood were 
gone. The silence of such a retreat could not have 
been more intense than that in the interior of this 
massive castle ; and Francois, when he saw his sister 
thus depressed, endeavoured to console her, though 
the spell lay as strongly on himself. " Lucile, towards 



Feudal Privileges. 



493 



the evening, loved to indulge alone in some pious read- 
ing ; the oratory of her predilection was the branching 
of two country roads marked by a stone cross, and by a 
poplar whose lofty stem shot up to heaven. My pious 
mother, charmed with her daughter, said that she 
reminded her of a Christian of the primitive church 
performing her devotions at the stations, called Laura. 

" This concentration of soul produced extraordinary 
effects in my sister's mind. Whilst asleep she had pro- 
phetic dreams, and when awake she appeared to read 
the future. On a landing-place of the stairs of the 
great tower there hung a clock which beat time to 
silence. In her visionary moods Lucile was accustomed 
to sit down on a step opposite to this clock. She looked 
at her dial by the light of her lamp placed on the ground. 
When the two hands came together at midnight, and 
by their formidable conjunction gave birth to the hour 
of disorder and crime, Lucile heard noises which revealed 
to her distant enormities/ ' 

Many feudal privileges were still attached to Com- 
bourg. " These were of divers sorts. Some determined 
certain ground-rents for certain concessions, or decreed 
the usages which originated under the ancient political 
state of things. The rest appear to have arisen from 
games or pastimes. The fair called L'Angevine was 
annually held in the meadow with the pond on the 6th 
of September. The vassals were obliged to take arms 
and come to the chateau to hoist their lord's banner ; 
from thence they repaired to the fair to keep order, and 
to enforce the payment of a mulct due to the Lord of 
Combourg for every head of cattle — a species of regal 
law. At these times my father kept open table, and 
dancing was continued for three days ; the gentry in 
the grand hall to the scraping of a violin, and the 



494 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

peasantry on the lawn to the squeaking of a bagpipe. 
Singing, huzzaing, and firing arquebuses, were the 
order of the day. These noises were mingled with the 
lowing of the cattle at the fair, the buzz of the crowd 
that moved backwards and forwards in the gardens and 
woods. Thus once in the year, at any rate, something 
like joy was seen at Combourg." 

But a dark and dismal shadow in the lapse of time 
came over the inmates of this feudal house. The old 
Viscount happily did not live to see it ; but at the 
bursting of the Revolution his body, which had been 
interred and registered as that of one of the highest 
nobility of France, was torn sacrilegiously from its tomb. 
His wife ended her days in the house of strangers, and 
was buried as a simple citoyenne ; while the fragile and 
beautiful Lucile was dragged without mercy from her 
hiding-place at Rennes, and imprisoned in the very 
dungeons of that mansion in which she had passed her 
early days. 

The Chateau of Combourg looks now almost deserted, 
and only a few of the smaller rooms are furnished, and 
inhabited occasionally by the present owner. The glory 
of its noble avenues, with the magnificent trees which 
Madame de Sevigne in her day admired, has nearly, 
perhaps, passed away, though there is yet some fine 
foliage in the place. Immediately beneath the grey old 
towers there still likewise exists, on an elevated terrace, 
a delicious little garden, with its shrubs and arbours. 
Into this I wandered, and could have loitered for an 
hour, for the air was redolent with the odour of roses, 
whilst trees of divers sorts were bending heavily with 
their weight of fruit. 

Wishing to obtain a draught of milk, I knocked at 
the door of the farmhouse in the large green court. It 



The Modern Age. 



495 



was opened by the farmer's wife, who bade me walk in, 
and gave me a homely welcome in her way. I entered 
into conversation with her on the subject of the place. 
Of the poet himself, however, or even of his works, she 
had known but little, but she spoke of his nephew, her 
present master, and said how that he was a widower 
with an only daughter, a beautiful child of about eight 
or nine years old, to whose photograph she pointed 
hanging on the wall. " Some time ago/' said she, " he 
came in to speak to me, and I told him what a pity he 
had no son ; why did he not marry to perpetuate his 
name ? He made no reply, and I afterwards regretted 
I had spoken to him on the subject. Ah, the poor 
gentleman— he looked so sad ! " 

The age of feudal chivalry is past, and with it 
much of the primitive romance of life, its place being 
filled up by the appliances and luxuries of modern 
civilisation. The castle now, with its battlements and 
towers, gives place, as a rule, to the modern but conve- 
nient mansion ; and the patriarchal connection between 
squire and peasant will scarcely in the coming century 
be known. These things cannot live in the neighbour- 
hood of a railway, and we must bow with submission to 
the exigency of the times. A divorce, meanwhile, 
seems evident between poetry and nature, at least in a 
country so limited as our own ; and the former must 
eventually, unless by means of some powerful reaction, 
show its principal strongholds in ideal books. 

Brought up under influences so powerful as Com- 
bourg, the germs of the poetic instinct, in a soul like 
that of Chateaubriand, could hardly fail of being de- 
veloped in some unwonted form ; and even when Am- 
bassador in London the brilliancy of his position was 
less a source of gratification than of enn ui. That gmncl 



496 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



old mansion, like other feudal castles and the cathedrals 
of the middle ages, was one of those eloquent romances 
written in stone by poets whose very names, though 
worthy to be enshrined, have perished unaccountably, 
while their works survive. Not to every one, indeed, 
was the interpretation of their beauty. Chateaubriand, 
however, comprehended it from his birth. 

LA BEETAGKNE.* 



Yes, loved Armorica, for thee 

My bosom burns, though, thy scant soil 
And granite rocks rude life decree 

To thy poor hardy sons of toil. 
Let the proud stranger still forswear 

Thy sombre heath- clad fields with scorn ; 
Than his own mother none so dear 

To that fond parent's only born. 

Long years and absence far have made 

Me yet more truly love the place, 
Though no sweet flowers or trees to shade, 

Or palaces the wild scene grace. 
If yon small heritage a spot 

All desert seem to alien eyes, 
A crown and kingdom I would not 

As those gorse hills so highly prize. 

Why, then, should cruel fate delight 

To mock the heart thus captive bound, 
Driven by poverty's cold blight, 

"Where, ah ! no happiness is found ? 
Dear land, from thoughts of thee to fly 

'Tis vain — they haunt where'er we go : 
Why, children doom'd to wander, why 

Cling to your birthright sadness so ? 

* A free translation of a modern song, whose chief beauty is in its 
music. I have added entirely the concluding stanza. 



CHAPTER XXXII. 



Review of the Breton Character. — Love of Country. — Ferocity of 
Wreckers. — Anecdote of Peasants. — Amiable Trait of Character. 
— Intemperance. — A Sergeant of the Guard. — Suspicious Nature. 
— Letter to King Louis Philippe. — The Celtic Dialect. — Old Super- 
stitions. — Ancient Games. — Jews in Brittany. — Concluding Re- 
marks. — The End. 

HAVE not professed, in the foregoing chapters, 
to paint the Breton character in all its phases, 
but simply to describe as far as possible what 
I have actually seen. Should this chance to come under 
the notice of any native of the country, he may possibly 
assert that the representation is imperfect. If so, it is 
not for want of any favourable prepossession ; for the 
fault, if anything, has been, perhaps, a too close partiality 
to the inhabitants of the province. The reader, it may 
be, after all, may say, " We have here pointed out to us 
everything that is unattractive ; and superstition and 
bigotry are the leading features of the people." Let us, 
however, pause one moment before we reflect too 
strongly on this the great characteristic of the country. 
The belief in the power and efficacy of the saints, whom 
the more ignorant amongst them make coequal with the 
Creator, has come down to them through their fathers 
from remotest ages, a consequence originally of Chris- 
tianity engrafted on the religion of a barbarous people. 
Had their civilisation been greater, experience indeed 
does not authorise us in asserting the result would have 
been different ; but it is not owing to any selfishness or 

K K 




498 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



darkness on the part of the early missionaries that we 
have to look for the cause of this. Their design was 
not simply to Christianise, but to civilise the inha- 
bitants at the same time. They helped with their own 
hands to cultivate the ground ; they cheered the afflicted 
with their spiritual advice, and relieved the sick with 
simple remedies, which, to a primitive and unreasoning 
people, seemed indeed to partake very strongly of the 
miraculous. After their death, the diseases they cured 
were known by their names, and the invocation of their 
aid was perhaps an almost consequent result. Even in 
our own country, before the Reformation, the people 
were in the very same condition; and we can only re- 
ceive it as a dispensation, which, however we may be 
tempted to deplore, is on the same footing as those other 
mysteries of our existence which we are totally unable 
to understand. Still, with all their superstition, there 
is no lack of a certain kind of piety amongst the people, 
a feeling which shows itself in their reverence for every- 
thing which is sacred, and in their yearning for immor - 
tality ; a state of mind, indeed, infinitely preferable to 
the lawless rowdyism of some civilised communities, 
in which reverence for sacred things is now as re- 
mote and foreign to the inhabitants as is superstition 
itself, although Christianity may be the nominal or re- 
cognised creed. It is much to be feared, however, that 
the close contact with strangers which the introduction 
of railways must of necessity bring about will weaken, 
and eventually destroy, the primitive simplicity of the 
natives of Brittany ; while all the evils of an advanced 
civilisation will approximate their character to that of 
the natives of other towns in France. 

One of the distinguishing features of a Breton, as has 
been before remarked, though we are not here talking 



Ferocity of Wreckers. 



499 



of citizens, but of dwellers in secluded parts, is his 
intense love of country, an instinct which makes him 
abhor the conscription, and prevents his ever entertain- 
ing the idea of emigrating to a foreign land. And here 
again his piety displays itself eminently ; for the Church 
in his estimation is even before his country — ubi 
ecclesia, ibi patria ; and a band of natives consented to 
their establishing themselves in a colony of Algeria 
only on condition of their being accompanied by a priest. 
Their usual reply, when advised to go abroad, is to the 
effect that they would rather eat the coarsest food in their 
own native Brittany than live and fare sumptuously in 
a foreign land. 

Of their implicit submission to the opinions of their 
religious leaders a characteristic anecdote was once 
related to me by a Breton gentleman. Allusion has 
before been made to the ruthlessness of those half- 
savage people on the sea-coast, who perhaps as lately as 
the earlier part of the present century would not have 
hesitated to resort to any atrocity for their own aggran- 
disement on the stranding of any hapless vessel, which 
they looked upon invariably in the light of a provi- 
dential favour to themselves. Nor need their ferocity 
surprise us when we read in the newspapers, even in the 
present day, of the rapacity of the people under similar 
circumstances on certain portions of the North Welsh 
coast. A native writer, M. Perrin, of whose experi- 
ence I have occasionally availed myself, and who gives so 
much original information about his countrymen, makes 
his hero on one occasion find his way down to the sea- 
shore during the raging of a storm. A ship is being 
impelled upon the coast, and soon becomes a tota] 
wreck. The inhabitants of the neighbourhood rush 
down to the rocks, ready to secure their lawful portion 



500 The Pardon of Guingamp* 



of tlie prey. Casks of valuables, as they are driven on 
to the beach, are staved and opened, and every one is 
intent upon securing what he can. One unfortunate 
woman, a passenger in the ship, is seized upon by a 
demon in human form, who, to the disgrace of her sex, 
excited by cupidity, applies her teeth to the flesh of her 
victim, in order the more readily to secure her rings 
and the other golden ornaments about her person. 

Our hero by his determination saves her life, and 
in perfect horror at the scene he has witnessed, walks 
on into the country to distract his thoughts. Towards 
evening he enters a farmhouse to request hospitality 
for the night, and, lighting his pipe, he seats himself 
by the hearth. What a pleasing contrast to the scene 
he has just witnessed ! The family are on their knees 
at their evening devotions, and the children, even to the 
youngest, are lisping their prayers at their mother's 
side. Carried away by their fervour, our hero follows 
their example, and falls down likewise on his knees to 
pray. But his eyes are wandering, and he sees around 
him many valuable objects, which he recognises at 
once as spoils from the ill-fated ship. Gracious Heaven ! 
he can hardly give credit to the testimony of his senses ; 
the family are scarcely so much engaged in prayer as 
in offering their thanks for the mercy of the wreck ; and 
the Holy Virgin, who is believed to have supplied it, 
is implored most devoutly to grant them more. In 
unutterable disgust he hastens from the spot, fearful of 
being accounted an accomplice in the deed. 

The same writer tells us that in the beginning of the 
sixth century Hoel, a Breton prince, gave the right of 
wreck as dowry to his daughter Alienor, when she 
married the seigneur of Leon, and six hundred years 
afterwards we find one of their descendants contesting 



Anecdote of Peasants. 501 

this inheritance with Duke John I. Indeed, a certain 
seigneur of Leon once made the boast that he had 
a stone in his dominions more valuable than any other 
in the world, and which brought him in annually a 
thousand sols. 

The anecdote in reference to this subject which I 
was about to relate is as follows : — -At a village on the 
coast, in the department of Finistere, a ship on one 
occasion was stranded on the rocks ; and casks of coffee, 
cloth, and other valuables were scattered everywhere 
about. The natives, impressed as usual with the idea 
that the spoils of the deep were sent to them by God, 
seized hold of everything which came in their way, and 
though the cure of the parish was down on the shore 5 
he was unable to restrain this promiscuous appropria- 
tion. On the following Sunday, however, he took the 
opportunity from the pulpit to speak to his parishioners 
forcibly on the subject, and next morning, on going 
into his garden, in place of the vegetables and flowers 
he had so assiduously cultivated, he found the beds 
covered with those casks of coffee, which the people 
during the night, in answer to his exhortations, had 
thrown over the walls, regardless of the property of 
their respected rector. 

M. de la Yillemarque told me that when making his 
collection of songs for the Barzaz Breiz, he went 
everywhere into the cottages, dressed as a peasant, and 
by his judiciousness and tact, carrying the children in 
his arms, giving money to the young girls and tobacco 
to the men, but, above all, by his thorough knowledge of 
the Breton language, without which the attempt would 
have been impossible, he was well received. One farmer 
under whose roof he was remaining had a servant who 
was taken dangerously ill. He expressed his intention 



502 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



of going for a priest, although the distance he would 
have to walk would be between ten and twelve miles. 
When M. de la Villemarque asked him why he would 
not send one of his labourers instead, the farmer replied, 
" Were it for my own son I would despatch a messenger, 
and the priest would hasten without delay ; but in the case 
of a servant possibly he might say there was no hurry, 
and that he would come soon. I shall, therefore, go my- 
self ; there's no time to be lost ; his poor soul is very sick." 

Such a hold do the sacred rites of the Roman Catho- 
lic Church preserve on its members that even in the 
period of the first Revolution, when religion was inter- 
dicted, the Abbe Berardin, of Quimper, was sought for 
in Paris to perform the wedding ceremony of Camille 
Desmoulins, and at which Robespierre himself was 
present, both having been his former pupils. 

The greatest failing of the agricultural and lower 
classes of the Breton people, and one to which not even 
the staunchest patriots amongst them are for a moment 
blind, is their too great devotion to the stronger beve- 
rages, though these produce a different effect upon 
them than upon their brother Celts in Ireland; for, 
whereas the latter, under their influence, are noisy and 
quarrelsome, the former are, generally speaking, only 
unusually loquacious. I have seen a man in a public 
vehicle address himself for a full quarter of an hour to 
his opposite neighbour without receiving or expecting 
the least reply, whilst I have watched another, in the 
absence of any nearer object, address himself gravely to 
the ground beneath him. 

An old Breton song, in allusion to this partiality, 
has these curious words, " I would like to plunge my 
head into a full barrel, that my soul might nestle there 
as though in paradise ; " and the priests in olden times 



A Sergeant of the Guard. 503 

forbade, but in vain, the baptismal feast, on account of 
the danger which menaced the young children from the 
condition of their bearers on the festive day. The 
important requisite, the sine qua non to be received 
into Breton society, and one only second to the speaking 
the language of the country, was to be able to drink 
long without feeling thirst. 

Intoxication at any age is repulsive, but nothing can be 
more pitiable than the aspect of an elderly man in liquor* 
I remember on one occasion listening to a woman who 
was telling me some of the ancient superstitions of the 
country-people, when a dirty-looking old fellow, who 
had probably seen me enter, put his head in at the 
front door, upon which the owner of the house ex- 
claimed, " There, there's a man who knows plenty of 
those stories." Then, as she left the room for a moment, 
he looked up at me with a silly leer, and said, " Don't 
you believe what that woman has been telling you ; 
she's one who lies. I can inform you of a great many 
things. I am an old man." 

" Do you know any of these traditions ? " I inquired., 

" Such stuff as that no one believes," answered he. 
" I wouldn't tell it to my own children. I'm an old 
soldier. I know plenty of things." 

" If you're an old soldier you've been away from 
home. Did you feel very wretched when first you 
were a conscript ?" 

" Wretched ! Oh dear no ! " 
I " What ! you never knew the mal die pays ? " 

" No, never. Soldiers are strangers to such feelings ; 
they're always jovial and rollicking ; if ever you had 
seen them drawing the conscription you'd have soon 
learnt that." * 

* I have seen them drawing : the joviality was assumed. 



504 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



" Ah, you can't be a Breton, then, if you don't know 
the mal du pays." 

" It's all nonsense. I could tell you a great many 
things, if I had the time, about what happened to me 
when I was a soldier." 

" The time ! but you seem to have plenty of time 
on your hands — -you've nothing to do." 

" Yes ; but I require something to open my mouth — 
a drink of brandy — it fortifies the spirit. I'll go and 
get one." 

" You've already had quite enough. I'll leave the 
house if you drink any more." 

" I'll just go and get some for a couple of sous ; 
there now, that's not much." 

" What a good-for-nothing old fellow ! " said the 
woman of the house when he was gone; "he's a 
terrible drunkard, and how filthy ! Look how he spits 
on the table when he talks : he shan't come into the 
place again." 

In less than five minutes, however, the old fellow 
returned, saying, " Moi, je suis sergent de la garde, je 
tiens ma parole. Now, if you ask me any more questions 
I'll answer them directly. There are many things I 
am able to tell you." 

" Well, what are they ? " I inquired. 

" Just try me with some interrogation ; I've been to 
Corunna and Saragossa. Are you able to speak 
Spanish ?" 

" No ; but you do not give me any information. 
I'm afraid it's very little you can actually tell." 

" What would you like ? I can sing you a song : 
shall it be one of the Revolution ? " 

" No, certainly not." 

" Aren't you a Republican?" 



Suspicion of Strangers. 



505 



" No." 

" Shall it be one of the wars of Napoleon ?" 
"Very well." 

And hereupon he began to muse as though he were 
about to sing, but he could recollect nothing what- 
ever. 

" Tou shan't sing here/' said the woman of the house, 
" to make yourself ridiculous before strangers." 
" To what country do you belong ?" continued he. 
" I'm an Englishman," said I. 

" I don't believe it ; you're no more an Englishman 
than you're a Breton." 

And the old fellow still leered sottishly, as he had 
been doing all the time. 

"Very well," I answered," I'll wish you good morn- 
ing ; " and forthwith I left the house. 

In the course of these pages the reader cannot have 
failed to have been struck with the suspicious nature 
of the Breton peasant. This suspicion is called forth 
almost exclusively in his contact with strangers, and 
shows itself occasionally in a feeling which amounts to 
a positive hatred of all those who cannot speak his 
language. A striking incident confirmatory of this re- 
mark occurred one day as I was travelling in a public 
vehicle. Addressing myself to one of my opposite 
neighbours on subjects connected with the country, I 
was for a time answered very civilly, until at length, 
happening to state that I was a stranger, he imme- 
diately turned to a man seated next to him, and made 
a remark in Breton, which, of course, I could not 
understand. To the next question I put to him I 
obtained no reply. Fancying that he had not heard 
me, I repeated what I had asked, but still my friend 
was mute ; nor, though I addressed him once or twice 



506 The Pardon of Guinga7np. 



afterwards, would lie take the slightest notice of what 
I said. 

Not so another of the passengers, who was a Norman 
from Granville. We entered into conversation, and he 
became extremely communicative, and took out some 
testimonials given him by employers for whom he had 
lately worked. He prided himself much on what to 
him was extensive travel, and then added, with no little 
satisfaction, "Sometimes you might fancy men you 
met were common, good-for-nothing fellows; these 
papers, however, prove my identity; they will show 
you who I am." And then, after a time, pointing 
with self-complacency to the Bretons opposite, he 
added, " I don't much like travelling with these two 
fellows. Haven't they a vulgar air ?" 

The suspicion, however, of a Breton peasant is not 
confined to strangers only. We have seen how, during 
the cholera at Morlaix, he fancied that the bitter taste 
of the medicine given him was owing to its being 
drugged and poisoned ; and even in modern times a 
mayor of Quimper, M. Le Dean, was attacked by the 
people in his own neighbourhood, and on the point of 
being stoned to death, for attempting the cultivation 
of the potato, on the pretext that he was going to feed 
the poor like dogs. 

This mistrust, of course, is a consequence of his 
ignorance, and his want of education and contact with 
the world ; and if it displays itself occasionally in an 
unamiable manner, his almost childlike simplicity 
commands our respect. What, for instance, can be 
more thoroughly refreshing than the letter quoted by 
Perrin, from the inhabitants of a country parish, ad- 
dressed to Louis Philippe six years after his accession 
to the throne : — 



A Primitive Letter. 



507 



"Monsieur Le Box, 

" The year 1836 has really been a most unfortunate 
one for us- We have learnt with much sorrow that 
three times you've been on the point of assassination ; 
and the wind of the 2nd of February blew down the 
tower of our parish church. But by the grace of God 
you've escaped safe and sound from these dangers, and 
we are confident that the charity of good people will 
assist in restoring our church and tower. Let us hope 
that, for the future, no one so wicked will be found to 
attempt the life of a king who gives happiness to 
France, and that our tower once repaired, the wind 
will not again blow it down, and put us afresh into 
the embarrassment in which we now are. — Tour humble 
servants from the bottom of our hearts, and your friends 
with respect." 

Allusion has been frequently made in these pages to 
the connection between the Welsh and Breton lan- 
guages, some people affirming confidently that there 
were certain localities in which the inhabitants of one 
country could converse without difficulty with those of 
another ; but from everything which I have been able 
to ascertain — and I have lost no opportunity — it seems 
to me that the similarity in these days is only very 
partial. The story of the two sailor boys at St. Malo 
conversing readily together, as stated in the first 
chapter, may possibly have been somewhat exagge- 
rated, though the general truth of it were sufficiently 
established by their having discovered stray words and 
sentences almost identical in their respective tongues. 

I was fortunate enough, in the course of my wander- 
ings, to meet with two Welsh gentlemen long settled 
in Brittany who had acquired the language of the 



508 The Pardon of Giungamp. 



country so thoroughly as to be able to speak almost as 
fluently in it as in their own ; and the testimony of 
both was to the same effect, that the identity is only 
now apparent in occasional words. One of them, indeed, 
mentioned that when he spoke to his wife on subjects 
which he did not wish the Breton servant to overhear, 
he invariably conversed with her in Welsh, and the 
woman never showed the slightest sign of understand- 
ing what was said. One day, soon after he came into 
the country, he walked into the cottage of a peasant, 
and seeing some flummery on the kitchen table, he 
mechanically exclaimed, Iod kerc'h; upon which the 
woman instantly smiled, and said, " Ta, ya ; " but as to 
keeping up a continued conversation, that was out of 
the question entirely. In fact, I one day met this 
same Welshman, in company with another of his coun- 
trymen, at a large rural Pardon, and I asked him to 
try the experiment with a passing peasant, which he 
did without the least success. 

On the other hand, I was once told by a native of 
Brittany of high standing (one who still adheres to the 
good old custom of playing bowls with his dependants), 
that he had some years previously, when at Carhaix, 
fallen in at an hotel with a Welsh gentleman unac- 
quainted with French, who was conversing with the 
people in a peculiar sort of Breton. He made his 
acquaintance, and they found they understood one 
another perfectly. The difference in the languages was 
noticeable chiefly in the idiom, and in the manner of 
expression ; thus, instead of saying, " he is ill/' he 
would have said, "he is in grief ;" and so an educated 
person might, in many sentences, have caught up the 
meaning where an unintelligent person would not. 

But yet, again, M. de la Villemarque assured me that 



The Celtic Language. 



509 



when in Wales he had the greatest difficulty in under- 
standing, and in making himself understood, though 
indeed the dialect of Yannes was almost as foreign to 
that of his own department. In the specimens, on the 
contrary, of the old Celtic of Cornwall, as published by 
Prince Lucien Buonaparte, he found himself compara- 
tively at home. 

A sentence given in the " Archaeologia Cambrensis " 
will sufficiently indicate the similarity which exists 
between two of the principal living Celtic dialects. 
" Better is the white wine bunch than mulberries ; " 
and of which the "Welsh and Breton are respectively as 
follows : — 

" Gwell yw gwin gwyn bar Na mwyar ; " 
" Gwell eo gwin gwenn bar Na niouyar ; " 

whilst Christmas and Easter, in Cornish, Welsh, and 
Armorican, are represented by the words Nadelic, Nado- 
lig, Nedelec ; Pasch, Pasg, and Pasc. 

The old superstitions of Brittany are now rapidly 
passing away. You would have to travel much, and 
try innumerable districts, before you would observe, for 
instance, that a new-born child passed rapidly by 
accident across the table, was immediately sent back in 
the same position to its former place, in order to prevent 
its falling into a languishing state ; or that an ancient 
beggar-woman was sent away before receiving charity, 
lest as a dangerous sorceress she should take and fondle 
a child to its inevitable detriment. Nor, perhaps, 
would you now in any locality hear of a priest who 
would cause a male infant to embrace the edge of the 
altar, but debar a female from the precincts of the 
sanctuary, and allow it only to kiss the balustrade. 

Women, indeed, it is possible, may not yet in Brit- 



5 1 o The Pardon of Guingamp. 

tany, amongst a certain imperfectly- educated class, be 
looked upon with, precisely tlie same honour as they are 
in other countries ; but yet it is doubtful whether any 
man in the remotest district could now be found who 
would refuse to go in mourning for his own wife, though 
perhaps a hen-pecked husband, who had actually 
allowed himself to be chastised by his better half, 
would still, as of old, incur the penalty of being paraded 
in disgrace about the village in a cart. 

As it is, even to this day, at a Pardon, one of the 
most common practices is to allow water from some hal- 
lowed well to trickle down the back, or to throw it down 
the sleeve, for the cure of rheumatism ; so it is not at 
all improbable that a young child stricken with fever 
may still, as in former times, in some unenlightened 
district, be plunged into a sacred fountain for the same 
end ; but as to another superstition, once so common, 
of barren women rubbing themselves against a menhir, 
and especially that of Plouarzel, it may safely be 
affirmed that is now quite extinct. 

It is not so very long ago that when a sick person 
went to immerse a diseased limb in the miraculous 
fountain of Briec, it was necessary to carry thither nine 
little effigies of the Virgin, collected from as many 
houses. These, however, were not very substantial 
offerings, and the parish priests doubtless did not hold 
them in particularly high esteem. St. Gildas, who 
cures mental diseases, requires some more distinctive 
acknowledgment ; and, accordingly, a man's expression 
of gratitude is exhibited generally in the bodily appear- 
ance of a white fowl. An orthodox countryman was, 
on one occasion, bewailing to the vicar his inability to 
comply with the custom as far as regarded the favourite 
colour of the fastidious saint. " Never mind," said the 



A Universal Tradition. 



priest, " bring two black ones ; he'll be satisfied as 
well." 

The next generation will, perhaps, know no more of 
these ancient customs ; for the rapid advance of edu- 
cation must, in a great measure, imperil the long- 
established dynasty of the thousand saints. The laity, 
indeed, are beginning to reason for themselves, and the 
priests in proportion to lose their hold upon the mass. 
Last Lent, I was told, they had granted dispensations ; 
and the people had asked one another, " How is this ? 
If it was once wrong to eat meat in Lent, why is it not 
so now? And does the Almighty sell his favours?" 
The priests explained it as well as they could, but the 
inquirers could not exactly be convinced. 

We have seen how the tailor in Brittany was accus- 
tomed formerly to add to his professional duties those 
likewise of a matchmaker ; and it is singular that the 
old proverb, of its requiring nine of his class to consti- 
tute a man, should here likewise have been one of the 
current sayings. No less remarkable is it that a time- 
worn story, which is heard in the neighbourhood of so 
many of our English rivers, and which people gravely 
relate to you as though a tradition peculiar to their 
own district, should be similarly told in Brittany ; for 
it is said that in the vicinity of Chateaulin salmon used 
formerly to be caught in such abundance, that servants 
in hiring themselves to a new master used invariably 
to stipulate that they should not be required to make 
their dinner on that fish more than three times a week 
at most. 

As to the ancient games of Brittany, nothing has 
been said about them in these pages ; the fact is, I had no 
opportunity of seeing them, for, like all old customs in 
this and other countries, they are fast growing into disuse 



512 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

The first of these, however, which may be mentioned 
is one equivalent to our English hockey, and is played 
with a wooden, and sometimes even a stone ball, called 
the horelL Then again there is, or rather was, the game 
of soule, a most brutal amusement, which was carried on 
between the young men of neighbouring parishes. It 
consisted in fighting for the possession of a copper ball, 
which was not kicked about with the feet, as is a leather 
foot-ball, but was contended for in a hand-to-hand 
engagement, which invariably ended in bloodshed and 
broken limbs, and kept alive the fiercest passions of the 
rival parties. This was a time-honoured institution, 
said to have been derived from the Celtic sal, and was 
played originally on the day consecrated to the worship 
of the sun. On one occasion at Pont T Abbe no less than 
fifty men were drowned in a pond whilst contending 
for the prize, after which catastrophe it was interdicted 
for the future in the neighbourhood of that town. 

Another game, once exercised in Cornwall and in the 
west of Devonshire, was that of wrestling, and was 
frequently also productive of subsequent hatred and 
ill-will between the contending parties. In olden times 
the adversaries advanced to the trial after making the 
sign of the cross, and striking one another's hands, 
swearing that they would remain as good friends after 
as before the contest, and that they were real Christians, 
and had had no recourse to any enchanted herb or 
compact with the devil, by which the strength of some 
horse or ox might have left that animal, and passed 
into their own bodies at the cost of eternal damnation. 

Another, but more modern and local game, and which 
was last played in 1828, had its singular origin in the 
occurrence of the battle of the Boyne. It seems to 
have been confined to the neighbourhood of St. Nicolas 



yews in Brittany. 5 1 3 

de Priziao, in the department of the Morbiban. The 
news, it seems, arrived in Brittany that King James 
had lost his life in the above engagement ; and the 
effigy of William having been placed on a funeral pile, 
it was made a target for the musket of some able marks- 
man, upon which the men of the place rushed forward 
for its possession ; and the contention for it upon sub- 
sequent anniversaries was so fierce and eager, that the 
death of one or more of the combatants was known 
occasionally to have been the result. 

It is a singular fact that that nomad and mysterious 
race who are to be found in almost every part of Europe 
and who to this day retain traces of an original language 
in every country of their adoption, have never yet made 
their way to, or at any rate established themselves in, 
Brittany ; for though I made repeated inquiries, I was 
always told there were no gypsies in the province. The 
fact is no less remarkable that there are likewise hardly 
any Jews. Whilst at Quimperle I stumbled upon a 
tradesman of the name of Jacob, who I thought might 
possibly be able to give me some information on the 
subject. Asking about his nationality, I was informed 
that he neither belonged to that race himself, nor did 
he know of his ancestors having ever been so either. 
There was formerly one, however, in that town whom 
they called Moses, though his real name was Cain ; but 
he was not a Breton, nor could he speak the language. 
There was also, some years ago, one of the name of 
Dalsem, but he was now dead; he was a very strict 
Jew, and observed the customs of his nation, and he 
never would touch a piece of pork; he followed the 
calling of many of his co-religionists, and dealt in old 
copper, brass, and such-like things. 

As far as I could ascertain, there were now only 



5 1 4 The Pardon of Guingamp. 

three Jewish families in the whole of Brittany; but 
this possibly may be incorrect. I was informed that 
these had been settled in the province for two hundred 
years, at Quimper and at L' Orient. One of them, how- 
ever, who resided in the last-named town, assured me 
it was only recently they had come into this part of 
France. 

"Are there no other Jews in Brittany whom you 
know of?" I inquired; "none who can speak the 
language of the country ?*' 

" No ; with the exception of my own brothers," 
answered he, "there are no Israelites at all in this 
province. The first of our race who came to Brittany, 
now eighty years ago, took up his abode at Nantes, and 
was stared at as an extraordinary sight. There is cer- 
tainly a family here of the name of Solomon, who can 
speak the language, but they are not any longer of our 
own persuasion. Their father was an Israelite, but not 
a Breton ; his children, on the contrary, are Bretons, 
but they are no longer Israelites." 

Allusion has been made frequently to the conservative 
character of the people of this country. I fear, how- 
ever, it must be confessed, that the attribute is called 
into exercise less in matters which concern the senti- 
ment than which affect the material interest. The 
most conservative Breton I ever met was one acci- 
dentally in a public vehicle. This man pointed, with a 
feeling of pride, to a very respectable hat which adorned 
his head, and which he told me he had had in his 
possession for twenty-seven years. Were the people 
only half as careful of their language as of their pro- 
perty, the Celtic dialect would have a fair prospect of 
existence for many centuries to come. But the railway 
is already working a change in the country, the effects 



Poverty of Peasants. 5 1 5 

of which they take no pains to counteract ; a change 
which would have made their ancestors stand aghast, had 
they been able to contemplate the rapidity of the revo- 
lution which is now in every direction silently but 
effectually going on. 

" The peasantry are an ill-used race," was the remark 
to me of a gentleman on one occasion ; " the upper 
classes give them such miserably low wages." 

Such a state of things, however, with a scanty popu- 
lation, cannot possibly be of long duration. I have met 
dozens of women and children walking into the nearest 
town of a morning, some a distance there and back of 
eight, nine, or even ten miles, with a jar of milk 
balanced on their heads, the utmost value of which was 
a quarter of a franc ; and people will even trudge twice 
that distance to a fair or market, on the chance of dis- 
posing of a couple of lean ducks or fowls. With the 
rise in the price of necessaries of life, caused by the 
demand in the capital, the wages of the peasants must 
rise in proportion ; though this will bring a correspond- 
ing addition to the misery of those among the inhabit- 
ants of the larger towns and cities who may happen for 
any length of time to be laid up with illness, or out of 
work. The railway, indeed, while it is revolutionising 
the country, is bringing with itself much material pros- 
perity ; and, wonderful to relate, in more than one in- 
stance it has added to the beauty of the town through 
which it has passed. At Morlaix, for example, the 
viaduct which connects the opposite hills is not only a 
stupendous, but a beautiful and artistic work. Built 
entirely of granite, and with two tiers of arches, and 
rising to a height of apparently two hundred feet, it is 
beyond all doubt a real ornament to the place ; whilst 
down in the valley, where the town lies nestled, you 



5 1 6 The Pardon of Guingamp. 



see nothing whatever of the bustle of the station ; 
and the trains themselves are at such a distance above 
you, that they are quite as inoffensive to the hearing 
as to the sight. 

As to the verdict, however, of the peasants being 
oppressed by the landed gentry, it cannot be considered 
as altogether true. The nobles, as a rule, are far from 
wealthy. Many of them, in the middle ages, from sheer 
necessity, were obliged to cultivate their own lands ; 
though, not to be confounded with mere ordinary 
labourers, they carried their swords into the fields in 
which they worked. Manual labour was considered 
derogatory ; and when an edict was passed in the seven- 
teenth century, allowing the aristocracy to engage with- 
out loss of caste in commerce and agriculture, the Par- 
liament refused to sanction this concession ; and not a 
few of the most ancient families have from time to time 
merged into the peasant class. The poverty of the land 
may possibly have been owing, in part, to the imperfec- 
tion in the art of its proper cultivation. An abbe, on one 
occasion, compared not inaptly his native province to his 
own tonsure, fruitful on the seaboard, but bare in the 
centre ; and a member of the States presented to his 
colleagues a bunch of fern as the produce of his country, 
recommending them to levy thereupon the correspond- 
ing taxes. 

With the increase of prosperity in the country, its 
poetry of necessity must decline. The very dress of the 
peasants has become modified by the railway ; for during 
the period of its construction, the men who were em- 
ployed upon it, not only for the sake of convenience, 
but to approximate their appearance to that of their 
fellow-labourers, discarded universally their cumbrous 
braes ; nor could the influence of the change have been 



Change in Costumes. 517 

lost on their neighbours, on their return to their re- 
spective villages after the completion of the work. 
The costumes of the women in many districts have 
already become traditional, or are only reserved for some 
holiday or religious fete, and, once worn out, will never 
probably be renewed. Even the wide-awake hats are 
becoming changed in type, and their brims have nar- 
rowed perceptibly of recent years. When the Bretons 
have parted with their characteristic features, the coun- 
try will certainly have lost much of its attraction ; for 
its natural beauties are not so great as those of Wales 
or Scotland. It is to be hoped, however, that some 
future age may see the revival of expired taste, and that 
architecture may once more be rendered as attractive as 
in the picturesque period of the mediaeval ages. 

The improvement in the outward appearance of the 
country need neither be a work of such expense or time. 
Avenues of trees along the dismal highways, and banks 
and hedges where they do not now exist, would in a 
very few years transform the most uninviting district 
into a comparative Eden, giving it a forest-like and 
rural aspect ; and could this only be placed under the 
control of the State, it would not be long before the 
face of a large portion of the province were totally re- 
newed. There is yet left in Brittany, however, suffi- 
cient originality to interest a stranger, though little of 
it Is observable in the neighbourhood of the towns ; 
while, as was before remarked, the middle of the next 
century may possibly see but the very slightest differ- 
ence between the manners and customs of a once dis- 
tinctive country, and those of the generality of rural 
districts in other parts of France. 



M M 



5 i8 



The Pardon of Guingamp. 



THE END. 



A fEAGMENT. 



As their gay course, when festal hours have run, 
The high mirth waning, and the banquet done : 
When o'er the orient hills one purpling streak, 
Morn's faithful harbinger, has dared to break ; 
When watchful stars, all loath to brook delay, 
Pale to the lustre of the rising day ; 
When captives doorn'd th' unequal yoke to bear, 
Go forth to life, and for fresh toil prepare ; 
He who, for cunning and transcendent skill, 
At eve was bid to do the monarch's will, 
His heart to move, and his high soul to stir, 
With the soft strains of harp and dulcimer, 
Worn by the vigil, his relaxing frame 
Yields to the vigilance of nature's claim. 
His task is done ! soon the sweet mists of sleep 
His wearied eyelids in oblivion steep, 
O'ercloud the sunshine of his dimming eye, 
And mock the music of his minstrelsy. 



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